


Sweet Disposition

by rayofsunshinc



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Bisexual Disaster Bill Denbrough, Drag Queen Richie Tozier, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Messy Ass Friends Group, Pining, Slow Burn, Sonia Kaspbrak Being Terrible, Wanted to reiterate - Lots of Pining, gay bar au, late twenties/early thirties losers, seven straight people can't be friends with each other grow up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:07:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 47,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26762557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayofsunshinc/pseuds/rayofsunshinc
Summary: “Not every day you see a big guy in a dress?” Richie asked.“No.” Eddie laughed gently. He struggled to find the words he was looking for to describe how warm he felt inside when he saw Richie smiling like that.  “I just - I don't think I’ve seen you look so happy.”
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 78





	1. Prologue: I Want To Break Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before they met each other, Richie and Eddie crossed paths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I was listening to Sweet Disposition by The Temper Traps over and over and over while writing for the past few weeks.
> 
> Warnings: alcohol use (will be prominent in this fic), drug use, depression, internalized homophobia, canon-typical Sonia Kaspbrak

The neon sign outside of Oasis had a parrot on it. According to Stan, the sign was stupid because there were no wild parrots in Florida aside from the ones that were escaped house pets that bred with each other. Stan always called the sign stupid when he saw it and once, even ended up drunk enough to tell the owner, Don, about how stupid his sign was (Don claimed that he didn’t pick out the sign, the previous owner did). Richie usually laughed with Stan about the sign, but truthfully, Richie really liked the parrot on the sign. Richie liked the accent wall that was covered in leopard print, even though there were no leopards in Florida either.

Maybe Richie was just biased because he was always falling in love with things at first sight. It was easy when he was out in the low lights of the gay bar. There was plenty to fall in love with - men in their fitted jeans, their sweat-sticky arms, their broad shoulders, their tight waists. Richie could fall in love with any guy who gave him more than half a glance, he could fall in love with a smile, a laugh at one of his jokes, and especially a rare compliment. He fell in love with the feeling of being drunk and surrounded by familiar strangers. He fell in love with dancing on the black and white checkered dance floor with Bev. He fell in love with that stupid parrot sign.

The first time that Bev brought him to the gay bar, he’d been reluctant and nervous. He was from a small town in New England that was very close-minded. His dad was Catholic and his mother was Jewish. He was bullied in middle school for those two things, wearing glasses, reading comics, and being a ‘fag’. Richie’s best friend, Stan, was bullied too, for similar things. Neither of them were exactly cool kids either, but there was something so nonchalant about the way that Stan handled that. Richie, on the other hand, craved attention and well, didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut. Richie had always felt like he needed to escape.

When they moved down south together for college and for a fresh start, Stan had blossomed and flourished and Richie … hadn’t. Richie thought that college was supposed to be some big party, but Richie had just found himself getting stoned alone and frustrated with tests instead of enjoying it. Richie had done his best to keep his head above water, but ultimately dropped out of college. Starting over felt an awful lot like getting lost. 

Bev was the best thing that happened to him in college. They met outside the dorm when he asked her for a lighter and had been pretty much inseparable after that. When Bev had admitted to Richie that she liked girls just as much as she liked guys, Richie was really moved by her trusting him with it, so he told her his secret too. Bev was the first person that Richie had ever even told that he was gay. After he’d said it to her out loud, it didn’t seem like such a big deal. That was until he was in the parking lot outside of a gay bar at twenty-two years old. 

Richie was bummed out after his first-ever breakup, feeling more like shit about himself than usual. He knew that all the trouble he had accepting himself stemmed from his issues with self-esteem that probably stemmed from childhood and probably some undiagnosed depression. He had just wanted to do his usual angsty heartbreak routine of smoking a joint and listening to The Cure, but that got entirely too pathetic for Bev’s liking. In the heat of the late evening, with golden light from the sunset illuminating the space around their silhouettes, they got into Bev’s car. Richie kept asking questions, and she kept telling him to just wait, but he was impatient as ever. They pulled into a gravel parking lot between two brick buildings. The neon sign outside of one of the buildings said ‘Oasis’ and there was a rainbow flag hanging between two pillars.

Ultimately, Richie had talked himself into going inside with a little encouragement from Bev. She’d told him, “It’s okay. I’ll be here with you. And if we hate it, we can leave.” They had pretty much stuck with that philosophy from then on about all the bars, parties, and outings they attended together.

The reluctancy of Richie’s first trip to the gay bar wore off immediately once he passed through the doors. The neon lights and disco ball made it feel easy. Once it hit Richie that he was in a room full of people who were like him, a room full of people who weren’t going to judge him for his sexuality, he felt his nerves ease away. He found out soon enough that there was a lot more than liking men that other people could judge you for. But for those first few months, Oasis had its own dazzling allure that made Richie feel liberated from the small-town that he’d been trying to escape when he’d moved down south to the sunny state.

Oasis was highly underrated, in Richie’s opinion. It was a lot less popular than the gay bar that was thirty minutes away, but Richie liked that it was low key. The bartenders remembered your order and the people were nice (mostly). There were karaoke nights. Richie couldn’t sing all that well, but he still loved them. You could buy drugs in the bathroom and do them in there too. 

Richie's ultimate love was the drag nights. He found himself looking at the drag queens in pure awe. He loved them. He loved watching them. The idea of getting on stage, dressing up and being able to be a new person was appealing. Ideal. When Richie made friends with the queens, he found out that they considered dressing up and putting on makeup a form of armor, a way to let loose and be free. It was art, it was entertainment, it was _fun_. Richie became a little obsessed.

One of the queens he’d made friends with put her lipstick on Richie one night and he loved it. Sometimes, he let Vince practice putting makeup on him a little (his drag name was Annie Depressant and he and Richie had absolutely bonded over how stupid and funny that was). Vince always got mad when he put his glasses back on after. “I can’t see!” Richie would remind him with a laugh. Richie really thought it was cool. Still, Richie never would have considered actually doing drag. He was interested, but only conceptually.

Until Rock Night. Richie was appalled that no one was performing as Freddie Mercury in the iconic, life-changing ‘I Want To Break Free’ video. Annie and Tiffany Foxx - another queen Richie had befriended - wanted to help him and took Richie under their wing when he agreed to be a last minute addition to the competition. Between the two of them and Bev, Richie didn’t look half bad.

There was a run in his tights. The heels were one size too small and he felt like one of Cinderella’s ugly step sisters trying on the glass slipper. The pleather black skirt was great though. He inspected his hips in the mirror, only slightly off-put by the lovehandles that spilled over them, visible through the tight shirt. He took a deep breath, shaking off all of Richie’s nerves, because he wasn’t about to be Richie. He was about to be Trashmouth. Standing there looking in the mirror in a bad wig and tights, Richie felt queer and it felt _good_. While this was all supposed to be a joke, Richie was suddenly taking it very seriously. It felt good, but then a swirl of doubt and shame entered his stomach. His nerves were tingling and it made him want to throw up. 

“You think people are going to laugh at me?” Richie asked suddenly.

“Well isn’t that kind of the point?” Bev asked from where she was leaning on the vanity.

“I mean, the point is to be funny, not be made fun of.” Richie said. “These girls look fucking fantastic, and here I am - ” He gestured to himself.

“Being iconic?” Annie asked.

“Being fat and hairy.” Richie corrected.

“Drag is an art form, not just men trying to pass as skinny women.” Bev said.

“Amen, baby.” Tiffany said from the vanity where she was reapplying lip gloss. 

“Freddie Mercury got stones thrown at him in Rio for performing in a wig and fake breasts. I think you can make it if you get a few bad reviews from a dingy drag bar outside of Tampa.” Annie said.

Richie knew that they were right, but who was he to try and make a statement like that? He tried very hard not to roll his eyes at them. Instead, he grabbed handfuls of his chest. “You’re right. And these breasts are all real, baby.” 

They all laughed.

Bev hugged Richie. “You’re going to be fine.” She said quietly in his ear.

It wasn’t long before someone was saying, “Trashmouth, you’re next.” 

“ _Shit_.” Richie mumbled. Annie helped him secure the wig.

Richie didn’t expect to enjoy being on stage as much as he did. He let himself completely get lost in the music, lost in the thousands of times he’d listened to the song and felt like it was made just for him, lost in the times he’d watched the video and been so impressed and enamored in what he was seeing. One moment he was pushing an old vacuum he’d brought for a prop and exaggeratingly lip synching the words to ‘I Want To Break Free’, the next it was over. He didn’t expect to be so well-received either, but the crowd was actually cheering for him. Loudly.

He wasn’t sure if the whole thing would translate as well, but it sure as shit _did_ , at least in his mind. By the end of the night, Richie felt amazing. He couldn’t remember the last time that he’d had so much fun. He wasn’t sure he’d ever let his confidence get as high as it did that night. Richie would have never thought that drag was his thing, but it was. It really was.

From then on, Richie spent more time than he ever would have imagined preparing his drag numbers, spent his paychecks on wigs and sequents. He was in deep and he loved what he was doing.

Eventually, Richie wanted desperately to morph his act into something more. He had never actually considered doing stand up either, but here he was, finding himself trying to talk Don into letting him do it. People laughed at him and with him when he was on stage already. People typically liked when he told jokes. People liked hearing his stupid stories.

“I’ll tell you what, Tozier, let’s give it a try.”

“I could kiss you.”

“Don’t.”

Richie wanted to tell his friends about the development. For some reason, he thought that Stan would think that it was stupid. Especially if Richie was doing it. Richie supposed that he let his insecurities warp his idea of his friends sometimes.

It was Wednesday night and Mike liked to have them over for dinner. Richie met Mike one night at Oasis when he was in drag. Mike had complimented him and said he had fun watching him. They had quickly morphed past bar friends into real life friends. Then Richie had introduced him to Stan and Bev. The four of them became so close over the last year that it was almost like it had never _not_ been the four of them.

Mike had lived in Florida his whole life, moved away for college, then came back because he loved his hometown so much (“Can’t relate.” Richie had said once when Mike told him that). Mike worked at the library in the town’s history archives. He was also a myth enthusiast, president of Sunnydale’s Ghost Hunter Society, and hosted both historical and ghost tours of the town (Sunnydale’s Not-So-Sunny History). Richie teased him about being a Ghost Buster all the time, singing the theme song at him. Mike was good friends with Don, who was also apparently a Ghost Buster when he wasn’t running a bar.

Richie’s heart was racing with nerves through most of dinner. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. Richie had a horrible habit of omitting important information from the people closest to him. He talked a lot. A Lot. But about _nothing_ . He rarely shared the things that actually meant something. He chose carefully what he said and who he shared it with. Even Stan, who was arguably the closest he had ever been with a person. But Stan _always_ put up with his stupid shit. 

And he put up with Stan’s stupid shit, honestly. Stan’s latest obsession was his rivalry with the Sunnydale Herpetology Club. They had followed his Bird Watcher’s Club on Facebook, and Stan hadn’t shut up about how they were trying to upstage him for weeks. Even though Richie thought that Stan was being extremely dramatic and there was no way the other club gave a shit about what Stan’s club was doing, he listened to his rants.

Realistically, Stan wasn’t going to judge him for anything.

Stan was talking about the latest thing that the Herpetology Club had posted. “The fucking picture had 500 likes. Softshell turtles just look like big ass pancakes with gross snouts.”

“I think they’re kind of cute.” Mike said with a shrug.

“500 likes worth of cute?”

“Speaking of weird hobbies.” Richie transitioned (and Stan glared at him), “I wanted to ask you guys to come and support me at mine.”

“What’s your hobby? Being an asshole?” Stan mumbled.

“Well, actually I’m doing stand up at the next drag night.” Richie said.

“Richie, that’s cool.” Mike said excitedly.

“Yeah, that’s awesome.” Stan said. “I have to say, Richie, I never thought that dressing up like a woman would be your thing, but you’re good.”

“Drag isn’t simply men dressing as women.” Mike interjected. “It’s more of an artform.”

Richie looked at Mike approvingly.

Stan looked at him like he was crazy.

“What? It’s true.” Mike said. 

“I know it’s all … kind of stupid.” Richie said. “I was nervous to tell you guys about this.”

“It’s not stupid if it’s something that you enjoy. Richie, I’m your friend. I’m going to support you.” Stan never let him down with making him feel relieved, like revealing something about himself was okay.

“Yeah. How many times have you come to the Ghost Hunter meetings when I know you’re a skeptic?” Mike asked.

“Entirely too many.” Richie teased.

“Exactly!” Mike laughed softly.

Richie beamed. “Okay guys, next Saturday, you both better be there!”

Richie Tozier wasn’t proud of himself often, but he _had_ come a long way from being a little boy who was too afraid to admit that he was gay.

“You should invite the president of the Herpetology Club, Stan.” Richie added.

“Shut up, Richie.”

* * *

Over the years, Eddie had his share of meltdowns and panic when he lied to his mom about what he was doing and where he was going. He wished that being so close with his mother meant that she really understood him and supported his decisions (he was a very, very reasonable person … so far), but no. The lying had really become a common thing when Eddie started going to college and making friends. Before college, Eddie had felt pretty isolated from the rest of the world. He was ripped up from everything he’d ever known at fifteen when his mother decided that they were going to live in Florida. Eddie had one friend during high school. His name was Mike, but he was a year older than Eddie and went off to a university in Virginia. Mike had come back to Sunnydale, but Eddie didn't see Mike nearly as much as he wanted.

Eddie’s mother should have been glad that _he_ didn’t go to Virginia or anywhere as far away as he could for college. Eddie chose the university that was twenty minutes down the interstate on the bus. But Eddie had made friends while he was there, two in particular that he considered his best friends. Bill had been nice to him from day one, didn't mind listening to his rants, and often convinced Eddie to do things that he wouldn't normally do. Stan was witty, sarcastic, and often was the voice of reason between the three of them. It was nice having friends who didn't judge you. Eddie's mother didn’t like that he’d made friends. Eddie knew it. She was just worried about him. That was all.

Eddie had stopped by Bill’s apartment to hang out with him and Stan after work against his better judgement. For one thing, his mother was going to be quite upset that he was late. Second of all, Stan had just asked them to do something that made Eddie panic.

“Hey, Richie invited me to the gay bar this Saturday to check out the drag show. You guys should come.” Stan was looking up expectantly between his two friends.

Stan invited Eddie to come to a _gay bar_. Did Stan think that he was gay? How did Stan find out?

Also, Eddie didn’t even know who Richie was. He was like some mystery person that Stan brought up occasionally. Eddie guessed that he’d missed meeting Richie on the many occasions that he’d turned down hanging out, because Bill seemed to also know who Richie was.

“My mom isn’t going to let me go to a gay bar.” Came out of Eddie’s mouth before he could stop it. Eddie was plenty old enough to be making his own decisions, yes, but hadn’t moved out of his mother’s house yet. And she did have house rules, which Eddie … tried very hard to respect. She didn’t allow Eddie to drink in the house. Eddie was in his twenties and wanted to drink (even though drinking was terrible for your health, especially someone who was sickly, feeble and weak like Eddie. Drinking could affect your nervous system, your sugar levels, your digestive glands, your heart. It was dangerous for someone as delicate as Eddie was). Also, his mother was a huge bigot so there was also that. “I can’t go.”

“It’s just one night, Eddie.” Bill said. “Can’t you tell her you’re just coming over here?”

Eddie could hear the lecture already, _Eddie, don’t you care enough about me to tell me where you’ve been?_ _You don’t care enough about me to be honest?_

But how would she know he was lying? Eddie deserved to go out and at least see what it was like to be around people who were open. And even minus the fact that it was a gay bar, he just wanted to hang out with his friends. It didn’t matter what kind of bar it was.

Eddie wanted to stop feeling like he was trapped. He wanted to stop feeling sorry for himself and take some kind of charge of his life. “I’ll think about it.”

Eddie was nauseous the entire car ride home. He wasn’t sick. He was making himself sick with anxiety. This was going to be the day, he told himself. Eddie was going to tell his mother that he needed to move out. He was tired of dreading every single aspect of his life (his job fucking sucked too). Eddie had been avoiding his house as much as he could.

He forced himself to unlock the door.

“Eddie, you’re late.” 

“I went to Bill’s after work.” Eddie admitted.

“You know that I don’t like Bill.”

“Bill is my friend and I like to see him sometimes.”

“I don’t think you should be hanging around people like that.”

Eddie didn’t say anything. If it was up to his mother, he wouldn’t have _any_ friends.

“I’m making dinner soon, Eddie. I was waiting on you so it didn’t get cold.” His mother wasn’t even looking at him. She was looking at a magazine. She wasn’t even looking at him while she tried to dictate his life. 

“I’m not hungry. I ate at Bill’s.”

His mom jerked her magazine down. “Well, you could have at least called to tell me.”

“You don’t have to wait on me to make dinner, mom.” Eddie said carefully.

“I always wait for you to make dinner. What are you talking about?” She shook her head as she pulled the magazine back in front of her face. “You were around Bill again, and he’s putting all these ideas in your head.”

“Bill isn’t putting ideas into my head, mom. I can think for myself.”

She looked at him again, like she didn’t believe him. “Of course you can, Eddiebear. I just think that Bill is a bad influence."

Eddie didn’t argue. He didn’t say anything. Even though he thought the exact opposite.

Once he got a moment to escape, Eddie went to his room. He left the door open (in case his mother needed anything) and pulled his phone from his pocket to text Stan.

 **Eddie** : I’ll be there Saturday.  
**Stan** : I knew you’d come around!

When Eddie walked through the doors of Oasis on that Saturday, all that mattered was it was something that Eddie wanted for himself. He didn’t know how he was supposed to feel, but he felt uneasy at first. He felt like there was some way he was being judged. There were two women sitting at the bar holding hands, immersed in each other. Two men were standing close to each other in a dark corner, the sparkle in their eyes and hardly any space between them said they were in love, at least for the time being. Realistically Eddie knew that no one there gave a fuck about him. He kept drinking until he no longer felt the unease twisting in his stomach.

He sat at a table with Stan and Bill. It felt normal. It felt like any other time he’d spent with them. It was just a bonus that Mike was there. Eddie hadn't spent nearly as much time with Mike as he would have liked since he'd come back from Grad school. But Eddie and Mike always picked back up where they left off. The four of them sat together, laughing like old friends who had all known each other for their entire lives.

Eddie was proud of himself. It felt rebellious to be there. It felt … good. It felt more than good. It was euphoric. And maybe that was because Eddie was good and drunk by the time that the drag show started.

Eddie had given Rupaul’s Drag Race a try before, so he knew some things about drag. Eddie liked the competition aspect of it, but he also thought the drag queens were amazing and inspiring for putting themselves out there in that way. He had never really thought that he’d find himself watching a drag show in person though.

The crowd had seemingly doubled as people got closer to the stage to see the queens. It made Eddie grumble under his breath as he pushed in front of a taller guy to actually see what was happening. The stage was graced by bodysuits and sequins, high heels and tall wigs.

Someone named Trashmouth appeared on the stage. She was wearing a big blonde wig and a blue sequin skirt and blazer. Between the lapels, her pecs were pushed together and her cleavage was covered in hair. She had painted-on electric blue eyeshadow and red lipstick. She was wearing tights, but under them Eddie could see that his legs were covered in thick hair too. She looked huge on the stage in her go-go boots.

“Some of you might know me from that bar stool over there on the corner of the bar. Some of you might know me from the dumpster out back.” She gestured to each respectively. There was a low hum of laughter in the crowd. She grinned, and it was brighter than the iridescent lights reflecting off of her sequin-covered outfit. She was magnificent.

“If any of you _have_ had a conversation with me for more than five minutes and not either tuned me out or ripped your hair out, I’m sure you realize that I can’t go long without saying something absolutely fucking hilarious ... or offensive. So I thought I’d give this a try. I always had this big mouth - it’s an equally good and bad thing. It really comes in handy out there behind that dumpster.” 

The crowd’s laughter grew louder this time. Eddie found himself moving through the crowd, closer and closer. 

“What? If you’ve never given a bj behind a dumpster, you’ve never lived. No listen, it’s more like having a big mouth means getting the shit kicked out of me.” The crowd roared in offense at whoever would have done something like that. Trashmouth was waving her arms. “No, no, no - not by locals. Although Florida is alarmingly more redneck than meets the eye. Getting the shit kicked out of me by bullies in middle school was a lot more accurate.” 

She shook her head, waving her hand in front of her when the crowd started an echo of ‘aw’s. “Don’t say Awww. It’s okay. You know what? I’m actually thankful for my traumatic childhood because it prepared me for presenting myself on stage in a dingy bar in central Florida. It also prepared me for Grindr. Don’t act like you aren’t on there. I’ve seen you, and you, and you.” She was pointing out into the crowd as she spoke, grinning and laughing a little as she did. “And you, sir, it says on your profile that you’d like someone to spit in your mouth and call you a little bitch. You know what, I get it. I typically just find a straight man on Craig’s List to do that to me without permission. Goes back to the traumatic childhood, perhaps. God, I’m sorry! That’s not cool. Consent is key. I’m sorry - I apologize like I sweat. Profusely.” The audience laughed and cheered.

“Ooh, someone’s got a sweat kink. Speaking of sweating profusely, I actually moved to Florida - yes, I chose to be here. I moved here when I was eighteen. I thought yes, let me move somewhere where all my shirts will have sweat rings and I will permanently retain swamp ass. Very sexy. Don’t pretend like everyone here doesn’t know what the fuck I’m talking about. Stand outside for more than five minutes and your asscrack will be sweaty. Try wearing tights and being under a spotlight.”

Eddie found himself entranced. Trashmouth was a very fitting name. Her jokes turned crude, enough to make Eddie the color of a beet, but laugh loudly despite himself. She was warm, relatable, and kind of charming despite being so dirty. The crowd was loving her and Eddie was too. He had nearly pushed his way to the front when Trashmouth announced that she was lip synching to a song by David Bowie. 

Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off of her as she swayed, lip synching like she was fucking embodying David Bowie himself. 

After the show, Eddie swore to himself that he was going to talk to her and tell her that she’d done a great job. His nerves got the best of him when he came back from the bathroom and he saw her talking to Stan and Bill at the table. 

Eddie froze.

He went outside to get some air. What did he think that he was _doing_? He couldn’t fit in here. He was too uptight. He was too delicate. His throat felt tight. He sat down on the curb outside, taking in a heavy breath through his inhaler. It still felt like everything was going white. His ears were ringing. Eddie called a cab for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of this fic will take place about two years later. Warnings will be put at the top of each chapter. 
> 
> I'm really excited to share this fic! Drag queen Richie has been living rent free in my mind for months.


	2. 1. I've Got This Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years later, R + E meet at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: abusive relationships (canon-typical Sonia and mentions of Tom), internalized homophobia, drinking, smoking

The record shop that Richie worked at was a little brick building downtown with peeling paint and stains on the ceiling. Most days it was slow and quiet. Still, Richie liked his job and it was his first week as manager. It helped pay the bills, because drag nights in central Florida didn’t quite cut it. Selling records wasn’t a bad day job. Richie liked all kinds of music, he liked talking about music and this gave him an excuse to do it all day. He also liked to find out what kind of music other people liked. Aside from all that, Neibolt Street Records beat the fuck out of working in fast food, which had been his previous job. 

He’d been working here for about six months. Since he’d become manager, he rarely saw his boss, which was basically fine with Richie considering he could be a bit of a prick. So Richie was left with most of the work. No problem. He was picking through a milk crate full of records that had apparently been donated last week.

The bell rang on the door of the shop. Bev came through the doors. “I’d like to speak to the manager.”

“Speaking.” Richie grinned, feeling a little giddy about it.

Bev grinned back at him. “How’s your first week going?” She asked.

“Pretty much the same as any other week, but as manager I get to make an instagram for the shop and hire another cashier. Things are in the works.” Richie said.

“That’s good.” Bev said. “Having an online presence could help business.”

“I’ve been telling Steven that for months, but he didn’t want to listen to me.” Richie said.

“Well, now you get to prove him wrong.” Bev said.

“Damn right.” Richie said. “Although I’m not sure if I should be trusted with a social media presence for a store.”

“Probably a bad call.”

Richie chuckled. “And I think I’m going to give Bill the cashier position. He asked about it.”

“Also probably a bad call. How’s that going to work?” Bev asked, voice filled with more amusement.

“It’s going to be fine.” Richie said.

“It’s not weird?” She asked.

“No. We’re friends.” Richie insisted.

About four months ago, Richie had sort of ... been bored, horny, and drunk. So he hooked up with his friend. Richie had been curious, considering the fact that Bill was _always_ hooking up with people and he’d heard nothing but positive reviews. Nothing had changed between them since that had happened. 

Richie tended to get himself into situations where he was in much deeper than the other person. The last time he’d been hooking up with the same person over and over, Richie got attached. He admitted to having feelings and it abruptly ended with Richie blocked on social media and lots of additional self-esteem issues. He’d sort of given up on romance and tried to give up on hooking up. But like any person, he ended up bored and horny and wanting attention. That was where Bill came in. But this was one scenario where he was honest about things not being complicated. It was good sex, but it was also _Bill_. And Bill had sex with enough people that Richie knew he wasn’t special. Richie hadn’t had a single romantic thought about Bill. Since Bill had asked him for a job, Richie assumed the feeling was pretty mutual.

“Friends that have sex with each other?” Bev asked.

“Friends that had sex one time. Four months ago.” 

The bell above the door rang again. Richie’s boss stepped through the doors, sunglasses on and hand wrapped around a coffee. 

“Good morning, Steven. Nice of you to show up.” Richie said, waving.

Steve flipped Richie off and went behind the counter with Richie. He snatched the paperwork off of the box that Richie had been going through.

“I think Bill has a girlfriend anyway.” Richie went on with Bev. “Her name’s Audra. First of all, what kind of fucking name is that, and second of all, why is Bill such a goddamn disaster of a person? He said she broke it off because he didn’t hang out with her enough. Not sure why the fuck Bill thinks I’m the person to talk to about a relationship but … ”

“Wait, are you talking about Audra Phillips?” Bev interrupted.

“Yeah. Why?” Richie said.

“I thought she was into girls.” Bev shrugged. “Maybe she’s into girls and guys.”

“Well if she is, that would explain what her and Bill had in common, because I started following her on instagram and she literally is so out of his league it’s not even funny.” Richie said.

“Shouldn’t you be working and not gossiping?” Steven said suddenly, looking up over his sunglasses.

“With what customers?” Richie asked.

Steven shot Richie daggers of a glare before he moved from around the counter to go to the back office.

“Asshole.” Richie murmured.

“Very professional atmosphere.” Bev said.

Richie rolled his eyes. "Tell me about it."  He hesitated a little. “So … anyway, are you okay? I heard you slam the door this morning.”

Bev and Richie were roommates now. After a bad breakup, Bev spent a couple of weeks crashing on his couch and then Richie told her to move in. She was open with him about what had gone wrong with her and Tom, and the bind that she was in with money because of it all.

Ever since Richie had known Bev, she had this dream of opening an art gallery. Her ex had helped her make that come true by helping her pay for the building she currently ran her gallery in. But after the breakup, he was trying to say that he owned the building, even though it was in Bev’s name. Richie didn’t fully know all the details of the legal drama, but he figured that the root of this was likely just so Tom could keep in contact with Bev. But luckily, Richie and Bev had a lawyer for a best friend. Stan had helped Bev with the legal battles.

Even so, Tom kept on and on and on trying to contact her. Assholes like that just couldn’t let shit go. Bev had to file a restraining order against him. 

She was trying to plan her first gallery exhibition since Tom had stopped being involved. Richie was  _ trying  _ not to pry in Bev’s business, but he knew that she was feeling very in over her head in this whole situation. He figured her slamming the door that morning may have had something to do with it. 

Bev sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I just woke up with a text from Kay letting me know that she couldn’t help me hang the show next Thursday like she promised because she has a dinner party with her colleagues.” Bev used a fake accent for the last part.

Richie laughed, “A dinner party? Jesus, you guys are way too fancy for me.”

“So fancy.” Bev joked. She was still using the accent and flipping her hair over her shoulder. 

Richie grinned.

“You think you can possibly help me hang the show?” Bev asked.

Richie groaned. “Bev, I don’t know anything about hanging an art show.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t really need the help.” Bev  _ was _ typically too stubborn to ask for help.

“I know, I know. I’ll help.” Richie said. “Maybe we can get Stan to help too.”

“I’ve asked Stan for enough lately.” She said quietly.

“Bev, we love you. We’ll help you with whatever you need.” Richie told her.

“I get it, I get it.” She said, brushing it off. 

* * *

Two blocks down from Neibolt Street Records, the sun was shining through the large glass windows of a much taller building. Crestmark Insurance. The blinding bright light of the sun was dulled by the fluorescent lighting of the office building. Eddie stared into the white of the sky, back to his desk as he held the phone to his ear. 

“I’m fine. -- It’s  _ fine _ . -- It doesn’t matter. -- Yes, I sound hoarse, because I was trying to talk quietly. -- Because I’m at work. In the office. With people. -- No, my throat doesn’t hurt. -- I don’t have -- No. --  _ Of course. _ \-- I know that. -- I do. -- I’m sorry. -- Yes, but I do have to go. --  _ I know _ . -- I’m sorry. -- Okay.”

Eddie felt like he couldn’t breathe, like his collar was tightening around his neck and choking him out. Eddie hung up the phone. He quickly unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, sucking in a breath of air. He reached into his pocket for his inhaler, taking a puff off of it.

“Yikes.”

Eddie turned around and glared across the room at his office mate. Her name was Greta. She typically spent more time filing her nails than filing paperwork.

“Do you always talk to your girlfriend like that?” She asked.

“ _ No _ .” Eddie said sharply. Guilt twisted in his stomach. He knew how he sounded. Like one of those horrible husbands who disrespect their wives and complain about them in front of people, calling them things like  _ the old ball and chain _ ,  _ the bitter half _ . He didn’t want to be that person. God, he hoped that he was never that person. But Eddie hadn’t been talking to his girlfriend or his wife. He’d been talking to his mother.

He had a headache. The nerve-wracking conversation with his mother hadn’t been helpful. Nor was Greta’s accusatory tone.

His phone was ringing again.  “I can’t talk. I’m  _ at work _ .” Eddie hissed. “I’m sorry. -- Okay. -- I’m sorry. -- I love you too.”

“Eddie, were you on the phone?” His boss was looking at him, arms crossed over his chest.

Eddie looked up, eyes wide and back straightening. “I - My mother - she worries.”

“You can’t take personal calls while you’re on the clock unless it’s an emergency.”

“I thought it was an emergency.” Eddie said. “I tried to tell her I can’t just talk on the phone. She’s - ” His boss cut him off, raising his hand up in front of him. Eddie closed his mouth, lips tight. He was red from anger and embarrassment. He felt like he was going to explode with it. Eddie felt like he was gritting his teeth so hard that they were going to break off. “It won’t happen again.”

Greta was snickering in the background.

It didn’t help that his boss was a  _ dick _ . The hand raised in front of his face, the way that he didn’t quite look at Eddie when he talked to him, the way that Eddie worked his ass off and never felt like he was appreciated. His leg jiggled under his desk in aggravation. One hand curled into a fist so tight that his fingernails were breaking the skin while he worked.

About an hour later, a voice broke him out of his aggravation and concentration.

“Eddie, do you want to come to lunch with us? We’re going across the street to Lenny’s.” Another coworker asked. His name was Adrian.

Eddie liked Adrian, but he also deep down in the pits of his darkest insides felt jealous of him. Adrian  _ loved _ accounting and he was really good at it. Adrian whisper-talked to Greta on Mondays about how fun it was to go out to the gay bar on Friday nights. Adrian wore bold printed button up shirts and nice shoes. Adrian stopped at the shop down the block to get an iced coffee in the mornings. Adrian seemed happy. 

Eddie looked up, brows released from where they were knit together. He wanted to go to the diner across the street with them for lunch. “No thanks.” He said automatically. The diner across the street served mostly burgers and red meat wasn’t good for digestion. He shouldn’t spend money on going out to eat.

“Are you  _ sure _ ?”

Eddie wanted to go to lunch with them. Mostly, Eddie just wanted to be around Adrian so that he could be near someone who was comfortable with the parts of himself that other people might not like. Eddie was dealing with a lot of his own internal struggles that he’d never dared to speak about. Sometimes, Eddie wondered if Adrian could see through him. He wondered if Adrian could see that deep pit of his insides and pick out the pieces that were burning to get out. 

So he couldn’t go to lunch.

“I’m sure.” Eddie said firmly. “Thanks though.”

“Fine.” Adrian said, though he was offering Eddie a smile. “Maybe we’ll crack him some time.” 

Eddie smiled back, feeling his cheeks heat up to a bright pink.

“Doubt it.” Greta said.

Eddie frowned when she turned away.

He looked back down at his phone. The screen was lit up with a text.

**Stan** : You coming to Bev’s gallery opening this weekend?   
**Eddie** : Undecided. Can’t talk right now.

* * *

It wasn’t a surprise that ten minutes into Bev’s gallery exhibition opening, Richie’s attention had been captured. There was a lot to fall in love with in an art gallery. The bright splatters of paint. The detailed tiny lines. The idea that someone wanted you to look at what they’d created and romanticize their work, decide what you thought it meant. There was even more to fall in love with in the dark corners of an art gallery. One guy, for instance, who was more beautiful than any of the pieces with his doe eyes, perfectly-styled dark hair, tight-fitting red slacks, dazzling smile that brightened up his whole face when he threw his head back to laugh. And dimples. Fucking dimples.

There was something both soft and intimidating about him. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Richie had watched him practically yell at a guy for bumping into him (“Watch where you’re fucking going, dickhead!”) and then practically bat his eyelashes at Stan. Richie fell in love often enough that it shouldn’t have surprised him that he already had a new fantasy forming in his head about going up to the guy. Sure, he didn’t know his name, but that didn’t stop love.

Richie was giving himself a mental pep talk about just going over there, but ultimately he decided on  _ later _ . He went to give Bev a hug when he noticed she was free. “There’s liquor in the storage room for my favorite guests.” She whispered in his ear and handed him a glass of champagne with a grin.

“What a host.” Richie disappeared into the storage room in the back for a shot so he could loosen up a little. Stan was in the room, pouring himself and Mike liquor into their cups. Richie’s boy was standing there with them. Richie caught the end of him talking, and watched the guy squeeze Stan’s arm. Jealousy stirred in Richie’s gut.

Richie found himself giving the guy a once-over where he was standing with his hands on his hips, one of his hips cocked out. That was when he caught Richie’s gaze. Richie panicked, trying to seem cool, but Eddie smirked at him. Richie’s heart thudded in his chest and he felt like an animal caught in headlights.

Richie clapped his hand on Stan’s shoulder on the opposite side, squeezing gently. “Jesus, we’re getting too old for this shit, aren’t we?” Richie laughed.

“Speak for yourself.” Mike said, handing over a paper cup.

“Hey, Richie.” Stan tilted his head towards the cutie. “This is Eddie, who Mike and I were talking to before you rudely interrupted.”

Eddie looked at Richie again. He had one hand wrapped around a cup this time, the other hand was still on his hip. Upon closer inspection he had  _ freckles _ too. Richie literally felt weak.

Richie wet his lips. “Hey man. I’m Richie.” Richie met Eddie’s gaze, finding himself caught in those goddamn sad eyes. He felt giddy. His cheeks were all hot and his heart jumped a little bit.

“Eddie Kaspbrak.”

Richie smiled. “Nice to meet you, Eds.” Eddie made a face that said he didn’t care for the nickname. Richie brushed past it. “How do you know Stan and Mike?” 

“I met Stan in college.” Eddie said. “Mike and I have known each other since high school.”

“You knew high school Mike? Was he a nerd? Please tell me he had a pocket protector.” Richie said excitedly. 

Mike laughed, shaking his head. “Man, I played football in high school. I was  _ not _ a nerd.”

“But you were nice to me, which probably made you a nerd by default.” Eddie was grinning while he spoke.

“See that was my problem.” Stan’s said. “I would’ve had plenty of friends in high school, but I was friends with Richie, so … ” 

“You’re a fucking dick. You’re totally giving Eddie a bad impression of me.” Richie was shaking his head solemnly. “Eddie seems impressionable.”

“What the  _ fuck _ is that supposed to mean?” Eddie demanded.

“You’ve got these doe eyes, dude.” Richie said.

Mike was looking between them like he was concerned that Richie was actually hurting Eddie’s feelings, but Eddie could hold his own. 

“Fuck you, dude.” Eddie’s cheeks were hot and his voice went up an octave.

“I meant it as a compliment.” Richie toned it down a little. “It’s totally cute. Like bambi.”

Eddie opened his mouth, then closed it.

“Ignore him. We all do.” Stan told Eddie.

Richie reached into the front pocket of his shirt for his pack of cigarettes. He fished one out, putting it between his lips. “Nice to meet you, Eds. You want a smoke?”

Eddie narrowed his eyes a little, like he was considering it.

“You know you want to.” Richie said.

“Don’t let him peer pressure you.” Stan said.

Eddie snatched the cigarette that was between Richie’s lips and started toward the back door. Richie smirked, heart thudding in his chest as he followed Eddie outside. He glanced back at Stan and Mike with a grin and a wave.

Outside in the dark behind the building, Richie watched as Eddie leaned up against the brick, one leg bent and foot on the side of the building. Eddie put the cigarette that had once been against Richie’s lips between his own. 

“Light me up?” Eddie asked.

Richie did. Eddie looked heavenly in the blue light of night with smoke rolling around his face. Richie lit his own cigarette next. He looked up at the sky when he blew the smoke from between his lips so not to stare. 

But Eddie wasn’t so polite. He kept looking at Richie like he was trying to figure something out about him. Maybe he was trying to figure out if he liked him or not. Maybe Richie had something on his face, which would be embarrassing, but he would have thought Eddie would have said something by now if that were the case. He was searching Richie’s face for longer than necessary every so often. 

Richie was starting to feel exposed, like Eddie could see through him or into his soul or something ridiculous. He finally said something about it. “What are you looking at?” Richie asked.

“Nothing!” Eddie said in a defensive tone. “I just ... know you from somewhere. I can’t figure out where.”

“Probably since all of our asshole friends know each other.”

“It’s something else.” Eddie said.

Richie brushed it off. He was feeling a little watched under Eddie’s gaze, cheeks pink and nervous. 

Eddie broke into a small coughing fit though.

"Never smoked before or something?" Richie asked. "One of those sheltered kids who didn't smoke cigarettes behind the bleachers in high school?"

"Fuck off. No." Eddie said through a cough. "I just ... I have asthma."

"Jesus fucking Christ. You're asking to choke to death." Richie said.

"Shut up." Eddie was grinning a little.

As they talked, the conversation flowed easily. Richie found out that Eddie hated his job at an insurance agency. Richie was a better listener than anyone ever gave him credit for. After a long rant about how shitty the people in his office were, Eddie asked Richie about his job too.

“I work at the record shop.” Richie explained. “Not as much drama as office life apparently. You should stop by sometime. Get musically versed.”

Eddie tutted.

They went back inside together. Inside the storage room, Richie caught sight of two figures huddled up in the corner. He and Eddie looked at each other, grinning a little in amusement, when the two broke apart. 

It was  _ Bev _ . And  _ Bill _ .  Bev was facing Eddie and Richie, running her hands through her hair guiltily. Bill’s hands shoved in his pockets, grinning.

Richie shook his head. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“Shut up.” Bev mumbled. “Can I have a cigarette?”

“Uh-huh.” Richie pulled out his pack. “I’m not the fucking cigarette provider though, just so everyone knows. I do not make that much money, despite now having a manager position.”

Bev took a cigarette from him and rolled her eyes.

“See you back in the gallery.” Bill said waving at them all.

“I’ll be right there.” Bev waved at Bill before he went back inside.

“Bev, Eddie. Eddie, Bev.” Richie said, gesturing between them.

“We already know each other. I’m heading in there.” Eddie gestured in the direction that Bill went. “This opening is definitely a success, Bev!”

“Thanks, honey!” Bev beamed at him.

Eddie flipped Richie off before he went through the door.

Bev raised her eyebrows. “Making friends?”

“Oh yeah.” Richie grinned. “ _ You _ should be my wingman tonight since you’ve already got yourself covered. I’m glad  _ someone’s _ getting laid.”

Bev rolled her eyes. “We weren’t even doing anything.”

“Yeah, I’m sure everyone who disappears into dark corners with Bill Denbrough says the same thing.”

“Am I allowed to makeout with someone at my art opening?” Bev asked.

“Of course. Do what you  _ want _ .” Richie said. “But you need to help me make out with someone at your opening.”

Truthfully, Richie wasn’t too worried about getting with Eddie. He was pretty sure Bev knew that his history with screwing around wasn’t too great and was just being polite by not bringing it up. 

After their cigarettes, Richie went back into the gallery space with Bev. Kay was glaring at him from the other side of the room as if she hadn’t ditched Bev and Richie hadn’t helped hang the show. He went with Bev in that direction for a moment.

“Hey, Kay. How are you?” Richie asked.

“Richie.” Kay said shortly, without answering his question.

“I’m great! Thanks for asking.” Richie said.

Kay was trying not to crack a smile. Richie had done something unknown to Kay at some point in their overlapping acquaintance to make her consider him her arch nemesis. Richie thought it was kind of funny and liked Kay a lot. Although they did come together for the greater good (Bev) sometimes. She had been really helpful with the art gallery since Bev had ended things with Tom. Kay was very connected in the community, knew lots of different people.

“Bev said you helped hang the show when I had to change my plans.” Kay said.

“I did.” Richie said.

“Hm.” Kay crossed her arms. “It looks really great.”

“Thanks. I just let Bev boss me around and it turned out alright.”

Kay was fighting a smile again. “Good call.” She stepped a little closer to Richie, glancing toward the door. “Are you on Tom watch with Mike and I?” She asked.

“Pretty much always.” Richie said. “You don’t think he’d really have the balls to show up here, do you?”

Kay shrugged her shoulders. “He’s a fucking asshole. Guys like that don’t give a shit.”

“Well, if anything happens, you know I’m not afraid to get my ass kicked.” Richie said.

Kay grinned at him this time. “You’re a good friend to Bev.”

“I try.” Richie said.

Kay looked at him like maybe she was going to say something else nice about him, then her lips drew back into a thin line and she decided against it. She turned more toward Bev to talk again. Richie was kind of okay with being dismissed from the conversation. He shook his head. 

Eddie was standing a few feet away from Kay. He was hugging another man, one who was very handsome. Richie’s gut twisted uneasily as he watched them smile brightly as each other. Eddie’s cheeks were flushed. 

Richie grabbed another champagne flute and downed it. He looked away from the exchange and took some time to actually look around at the art. He was studying one of the pieces, the deep blues of the swirling in the piece had him until he heard someone say, “Hey.”

He looked over his shoulder and Eddie was standing there, smiling at him.

“Oh, hey.” Richie smiled softly, hands shoving into his pockets. 

“So, you were actually admiring the art or … ?” Eddie asked, pointing toward the wall.

“Couldn’t have been. You just got here.” Richie said.

Eddie blushed, but rolled his eyes. “Did you save that line specifically for an art gallery?”

“Yup.” Richie said, grinning proudly.

Then they actually talked about the art for a little while, walked around together and picked out their favorite pieces. 

“My friend Ben did the watercolors over here.” Eddie said.

“Those are cool.” Richie said.

“Yeah, he’s kinda … shy. I think he’s struggling over there. Want to come with me to talk to him?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, sure. I’m good at making people uncomfortable.” Richie said.

Eddie shook his head. “No, easy to talk to.”

Richie would take the compliment.

It turned out the handsome guy that Eddie had been hugging earlier was his artist friend, Ben Hanscom. Richie broke the ice by automatically calling him Ben Handsome, which made him laugh and blush. Ben was very nice, definitely shy. Richie liked him.

Bev came over while they were talking. It seemed to make Ben a little more nervous. Richie could tell a longing stare from a mile away. Richie felt for him. He really, really did.

At least Richie and Eddie were hitting it off. Eddie was fun to be around. He didn’t take Richie’s shit and it was hilarious. He didn’t seem to mind that Richie was loud, because he was also loud. The drunker he got, the more his voice went up. Truthfully, Richie couldn’t have cared less  _ what _ he was talking so loudly about. He just wanted to hear him talk. They talked together all night, some with their friends, but he and Eddie didn’t leave each other’s side.

Alone in the storage room, Eddie’s face was all scrunched up like he was trying to figure Richie out again. “I know where I know you from.” Eddie finally said.

“Where?” Richie asked.

“Drag show at Oasis.”

Richie paused, feeling suddenly nervous. Over the years, he had adjusted to the judgement, but it still made his stomach twist sometimes. “Did you like it?” Richie asked, hand on his glasses, adjusting them.

“It was really cool. You were dressed like David Bowie.” Eddie said. “Well, but you were in a skirt.”

Richie felt the unease dissipate a little. “Thanks.” Richie grinned, tilting his head back a little and reveling in the compliment. “When I do David Bowie, I always feel like Jessica Lange in American Horror Story.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Richie shook his head. “You should come see me again some time.”

“I’d like that.” Eddie said.

.

It was late in the night when everyone left. Richie and Mike were the last ones there, helping Bev straighten the place up. And maybe partially on Tom watch. Thankfully that had been unnecessary.

“Thanks, guys.” Bev said with a smile. “I couldn’t do this stuff without everyone’s help.”

“It’s not a problem, Bev.” Mike leaned in to hug her tightly.

“Are you safe to drive?” Bev asked. “I’m getting us an uber.”

“I’m good. I’ll wait with you guys though.” Mike said.

Bev locked up the gallery and Mike waved at them from beside his car. The ride in the uber was silent, aside from the music that was playing quietly over the speaker.

_ Graceless lady, you know who I am // You know I can't let you, slide through my hands // Wild horses couldn't drag me away _

Richie rested his head against the window, finger dragging along the door. He looked up, eyes following the street lights that were racing by. He talked the whole night with a guy that he liked. The probability of them crossing paths again wasn’t at zero, considering they did have all the same friends. 

The low that followed the bliss of being with his friends washed over him. He looked over at Bev who was looking down at her phone screen, wondering if she was experiencing the same thing. She had to be.

They went inside after Richie unlocked the door, Bev putting down her purse and Richie letting out a quiet sigh.

“You want to watch Mama Mia?” Bev asked.

“Yeah, please.” It was enough of a distraction to stop the inevitable feelings that would come over him until tomorrow. Bev fell asleep fifteen minutes in against his arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from 'I've Got This Friend' by The Civil Wars  
> Song playing in the car 'Wild Horses' by The Rolling Stones


	3. 2. Riding High On Love's True Bluish Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie's invited to the drag show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> typical tag warnings

The feeling Eddie had the first time he went to Oasis was still pretty clear in his mind. He remembered being nervous, but also like he was somewhere he was meant to be. Maybe it was stupid to feel like it was so symbolic. Maybe Eddie was just desperate to be himself. Being in a place where it at least seemed like everyone else was, he felt like he could too. The first time being there had left him craving more, even after two years.

Being friends with Richie left him craving more of something too, like he’d never be around Richie enough to be satisfied. Richie wasn’t a person that Eddie imagined himself being friends with. Yet, once they’d met at Bev’s gallery opening, they immediately formed a bond. Eddie found himself looking forward to seeing Richie. He found himself no longer turning down invites to hang out because he was always wondering if Richie was going too.

There were a lot of things about Richie that Eddie found absolutely irritating. Richie wore mismatched socks with his sandals and sometimes pulled the hair at the crown of his head into a tiny bun held by a scrunchie. Richie was loud when he got excited, boisterous and giddy when he was talking about things that he liked. Music, movies, and comics were nothing compared to when Richie started talking about drag. As obnoxious as Richie could be when given the chance, Richie was also warm and inviting, even _charming_. If you could describe someone who said fuck as often as Richie did and talked about their dick an alarming amount as charming. Richie was always making Eddie laugh or smile, though Eddie tried to hide it sometimes. They shared the kind of connection that when they made eye contact, they could tell what the other was thinking. On the rare occasions that Richie thought something was worthy of making fun of, but didn’t say anything, he would meet Eddie’s eye and they would laugh to themselves. On the also rare occasion that Eddie didn’t call someone out on their bullshit, Richie would look at him with a raised eyebrow and Eddie would roll his eyes and shake his head a little. Richie once told Eddie that everything was more fun when he was there, but Eddie somehow doubted that.

Eddie had ended up back at Oasis because Richie invited him to see his next drag performance. He had said yes without thinking about it, because it was something that he wanted to do and Eddie _had to_ start doing the things that he wanted to.

The lowlights of the bar made Eddie feel braver than usual. It also made him feel like he could believe Richie. He felt a lot less nervous than the first time and wanted to make sure it didn’t end in a meltdown. Eddie needed to be kinder to himself and give himself the time to grow into the person he was meant to be. Maybe being surrounded by all of his friends made him feel like a better version of himself. 

Their group was really out in full tonight. Bev introduced them to a woman who had been in her latest art exhibition. Her name was Patty. She was nice in a very warm and genuine way. She said she loved to come and watch the drag shows and was very excited when they said that they were friends with one of the queens. It also turned out that Patty was friends with Ben too. Patty took yoga classes from Ben. 

The same yoga classes that Ben had been trying to get Eddie to go to for at least a year, but Eddie always made an excuse not to go. Ben was always trying to take care of him, but somehow, it was one thousand times less annoying than when anyone else did it, because that was Ben’s thing. Ben genuinely wanted you to feel good, like a teddy bear or a warm cookie. Eddie had met Ben when he was having a panic attack outside of a different bar one night years ago. Ben was really, really good at talking Eddie through it and getting his breathing back to normal. Eddie invited Ben to have drinks and ever since then, they had been friends.

It felt good to be surrounded by people who encouraged the good parts of Eddie, people who wanted to help him, people who made him feel good, people who were genuine. Eddie did feel good. He was even feeling bold enough to dance with Mike, Bev, and Patty. Under the shimmering reflections of the disco light, he felt himself letting loose for the first time in a long time, mind not wondering back to whether or not his mom was upset with him. He was just _being_.

By the time the drag show started, Eddie was buzzed from the alcohol and all the energy. He was very excited to watch. When it was finally Richie’s turn to perform, Trashmouth stepped onto the stage wearing a tight, bold purple dress that cut off at the knee. She had on a big blonde wig. Her eyeshadow matched her dress. The corner of her mouth was turned up in a pleased sort of smile. “I haven’t had a round of applause like that since I accidentally flashed my dick a few months ago. Sorry. If you missed it, you missed it. Unless you want to meet me in the second stall after this set.”

She pulled on the chord of the microphone, twisting it around her finger. “My dick is massive, by the way. I have had a lot to compare it to. I’m a slut who has a dick measuring contest with every guy that I hook up with. I always win.”

Eddie snorted, finding that to be mildly irritating. Possibly because after the comment he felt hot under the collar. The term _massive_ should have been a turn off just for the mere fact that it made Richie sound like he was lying. Exaggerating for a Trashmouth story, no doubt. But Eddie … couldn’t help wondering.

While Eddie watched her, he couldn’t let his mind wonder too far because her stage presence was impressive. She owned that stage like no one else there. She was making the crowd roar with laughter and cheer.

After she finished with her stand-up routine, she was lip synching to Blondie’s ‘Heart of Glass’ and she looked dazzling under the disco light. She tilted her head back, grinning wildly as she spun around mouthing the words. She straightened up, pretending to be dizzy, making those exaggerated facial expressions. She moved in closer to her crowd, shimmying and offering up real cleavage as a space for them to put her tips.

Eddie found himself smiling as he watched. Since he knew Richie as himself, Eddie figured out why he had been so interested the first time he saw Trashmouth on stage. Underneath the persona, Richie looked so incredibly _happy_ , so confident and proud of himself. Everyone else could see it too. The applause was loudest yet. He couldn’t believe that Richie had the balls to go up there on a stage to tell jokes and lip synch.

.

When the lights went back down and the show was over, Eddie went to the bar for a drink. He was excited to tell Richie how much he had enjoyed the performance. He was disgruntled by the time he got to the bar because so many people were crowded around it trying to get drinks. Eddie was huffing out a noise of frustration, near giving up when he heard a voice behind him.

“Hey, handsome.”

Eddie turned to face Richie, still in full drag. He was exquisite. 

“Richie.” Eddie had to tilt his head up even further to look him in the eye in his go go boots. “I like your dress.” 

Richie twirled around once, striking a pose at the end. He was beaming, painted red lips stretched wide. “Thanks.” It was unbelievable how Richie seemed so distinctly himself and yet, he was much more sanguine. 

Eddie shook his head. “I didn’t bring cash. I didn’t think. Let me buy you a drink.”

Richie laughed. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

The way his painted-on brows drew together was very much familiar. “Okay.”

A little while later, Eddie and Richie were sitting at a table toward the back of the bar with their drinks. Richie was challenging Eddie about the drink he’d ordered, saying he needed to have something other than vodka and cranberry.

“I fucking like vodka and cranberry, thanks.” Eddie curled his hand protectively around his glass.

Richie just grinned at him, flashing those front teeth that stuck out a little too far. Eddie kept searching his face, trying to find those things that were distinctly still Richie below the wig and the makeup. Eddie wanted to be forever enveloped in that happy aura that Richie was giving. It felt like they were the only people in the bar, despite the loud club music and flashing dance lights. Eddie didn’t _care_ about anyone else. 

“How’s Eddie Spaghetti tonight?”

“Only mildly upset by that nickname.”

“Oh, so you’re feeling really good.” Richie waggled his eyebrows.

“Mhm.” Eddie laughed, despite himself. He looked down at his drink, stirring the little black straw around a little.

“So you did like the show?” Richie asked.

“Yeah, you’re really good.” Eddie said seriously. “I don’t know how you can just go up there like that. It looks like you were meant to be doing this.”

“You really know how to talk a girl up, Eddie.”

Eddie chuckled. “How did you get into drag?” Eddie asked.

“Made friends with drag queens.” Richie said.

“Very vivid story. A lot less vivid than the one you told on stage.”

“Which one?” Richie asked.

“Nevermind.”

“No, which one.” Richie asked again, grinning this time. “Was it the one about having a massive dick?”

“I’m not - no - I - ”

“Hey, there you are!” Stan interrupted them. He put his arms over Richie’s shoulders, giving them a squeeze. He stayed close to Richie, side all pressed against Richie. “You were great!”

“Hello, Staniel.” Richie’s arm was around Stan’s midsection. “I’m glad you had fun.”

Eddie felt a twinge of something nasty in his gut. He narrowed his eyes at Stan. What if Richie liked Stan. What if that was a thing? And why should that have mattered to Eddie if it was?

Bev was introducing Richie to Patty, who was Richie’s biggest fan (maybe after Eddie).

“You look really pretty.” Patty said toward Richie.

“Thanks, Patty!” Richie said with a grin. 

Patty was leaning on the table, talking excitedly about how much she liked Richie’s outfit. Eddie smiled, watching as Richie beamed at the compliments, glowed in a different way when he talked about doing drag. It was incredibly easy to love Richie like this, to want to be his friend, to want …

At that moment, it occurred to Eddie that he might _like_ Richie. He hadn’t considered that in the last couple of months. Even though he could think of all those things about Richie that were irritating, maybe he thought that they were irritating because he actually _really_ liked them.

He glanced up to watch Richie again, feeling the warmth fill his chest. Richie caught his gaze, then winked at him, cheeks shimmering as the light caught them. It made Eddie turn beat red, heart suddenly feeling like it was squeezing and twisting, dripping down into his gut.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Eddie was supposed to be in the exploratory phase of his sexuality, where he freely flirted, dated, and fucked without taking things too seriously. He felt irritated again by the whole thing. He couldn’t let a crush get in his way of all of his plans. But it was just a crush. A crush on someone who was very special and didn’t deserve to be dragged into Eddie’s currently unstable and angry orbit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from 'Heart of Glass' by Blondie


	4. 3. Tell Me There's Some Hope For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan has a party and the aftermath gets Richie ... absolutely nowhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: kissing under the influence, vomiting

Inside Stan’s house was warm with bodies, the sounds of people talking over each other and the low buzz of music. Everyone had a beer or a red cup in their hand. Richie had just come inside from indulging in part of a joint he’d shared with a stranger because all of his friends seemed to be busy.

Stan and Bev’s friend Patty were in the corner of the room. As it turned out, Bev’s friend Patty was the president of the Sunnydale Herpetology Club that Stan still had a vendetta against. Patty had asked Stan to come check out a meeting some time, Stan had gone to ‘spy’ and ‘see what they were about’. But Richie knew better. Richie couldn’t blame him. Richie and Bev both adored Patty too. Stan kept inviting her to hang out, but had never actually asked her out. They were talking together, probably about alligators and the little cranes that sat on their backs, or something equally as nauseating.

Bev was talking to Bill, putting her hand on his shoulder which was a signal. Richie shook his head. Apparently that was still going on. Mike was talking to Ben. Mike was a philosophical kind of drunk and talking with a yoga instructor could only mean they were going on an enlightening journey that Richie was 100% sure did not want to weigh in on.

Richie’s mind hadn’t wandered far from Eddie since the night that he’d met him, but seeing him across the room at a party was igniting something deep within his soul. Eddie was standing alone toward the corner of the room, just begging for Richie to go give him attention. He was looking down at his phone with a deep frown and those stupid caramel eyes reflected the light from it, bright light giving little highlights to the sharp cheekbones. He was wearing a pair of the shortest little shorts, cut off on his upper thigh and revealing muscled, tanned legs. The shorts were also very pink, and it was fucking adorable was what it was. 

“Parties are for having fun, ya know.” Richie said.

Eddie looked up. “Don’t give me that ‘live in the moment’ bullshit.”

“You looked sad was all.”

Eddie looked less sad and more disgruntled now. “I’m not sad. It’s genetics.”

Richie snorted. “Genetics make you look sad?”

“Yes.”

“That’s funny because your dad didn’t look sad last night.”

“ _What_?” Eddie spat.

“It was a ‘your mom’ joke, except in the form of a your dad joke.”

Eddie snorted. “No, I got it. I’m literally just trying to understand the fact that a grown man just said something like that to me.”

“It’s my niche.”

“Oh yeah? Being an immature asshole is your niche?” Eddie was trying not to smile. “It’s not as cute when you aren’t wearing a wig.”

Richie was all-out grinning at him. “Oh but you think it’s cute when I am.”

Eddie’s brows drew together. “Stan always said that you were funny.”

“Aw, Staniel complimented little ole me?” Richie asked, doing a southern belle voice.

“It’s a good thing he did or I would just think you were annoying.” Eddie tried to hide a smile again as he looked back down at his phone.

“Oh, trust that I’m also annoying.” Richie was grinning still, heart fluttering.

Eddie stashed his phone away in his back pocket. “I can tell.” He said, though the chuckle in his voice let Richie know that maybe he was lying.

Richie talked Eddie into playing beer pong with him. Eddie said that he had never played before, but his aim was way better than Richie’s. The second round, Richie started fucking off and blocking his shots. Eddie got pissed off.

“I’m going to kick your ass.” Eddie spat.

“Yeah, I can tell by your pink shorts that you’re really hardcore.” Richie didn’t know why he just kept at it, but he did. He desperately wanted Eddie’s attention to be on him and nothing else.

“Fuck you. Someone’s fucking lame uncle called. They want their stupid ass Hawaiian shirt back.” Eddie spat.

Richie broke into a loud bark of a laugh. 

Eddie grinned at him. “Fuck it, I dare you to just fucking drink all the cups.”

“Even the ones on your side?” Richie asked.

“No, I’m drinking the ones on my side.” Eddie said.

“Okay. Fair.” Richie said. “Loser has to ask one of Stan’s stuck up law school friends if they’ve got a condom.”

“I’m not asking a stranger for a condom.” Eddie said.

“Then don’t lose I guess.” Richie shrugged.

Then before Richie could say go, Eddie had already started pouring all of the cups into one to drink out of. Richie made a frustrated noise but then started drinking them one by one on his side. He groaned loudly when Eddie finished before he did. “That was cheating.” Richie insisted.

“There were no rules.” Eddie grinned. “Go on.” Eddie gestured toward the people in the living room.

Richie tried to own it, but really, he was embarrassed as fuck when he went to a random stranger and asked for a condom. The guy seemed less embarrassed than Richie, but did make a weird face as he gave away his wallet condom to Richie. A good man. Richie told him that too. The guy was a little more amused at that part.

Triumphantly, Richie held it up to Eddie when he came back to the kitchen. Eddie shook his head, “Embarrassing.”

“Yeah, now everyone thinks I’m coming in here to use it on you.” Richie dared say.

Eddie might have blushed. “You should be so lucky.”

Richie bit the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from outright grinning.

.

Eddie got _wasted_. Much more so than the night at Oasis. He was a very funny, cute drunk. He was loud, giggly and pink cheeked. Richie was helping steady him when he’d stumbled. Admittedly, Richie wasn’t much better off, but he was a little sturdier on his feet. Eddie’s hand was curled into the front of his shirt. 

Eddie leaned into him, pressing him against the wall in the dark of the hallway. Richie’s breath caught in his throat. Eddie leaned up to kiss him. It was sloppy and quick. Richie puts his hands on Eddie’s hips to steady him. Eddie pulled away, but was still leaning most of his weight into Richie.

“Hey, c’mere.” Richie mumbled. He gently pulled Eddie into the door next to them. The bathroom. He turned on the light and it was too bright, making them both squint. Richie gently pushed some of Eddie’s sweaty hair away from his forehead, falling down from his styled hair as he’d gotten more and more drunk. “You’ve had a lot to drink.”

“I know.” Eddie was having trouble focusing on his face and that was clear. He put his hands on Richie’s shirt again, pulling them clumsily together in the small bathroom. He tried to kiss Richie again, half-missing and kissing the corner of his mouth. 

Richie touched his face, helping to properly slot their lips together. Eddie’s tongue slid between the seam of his lips, and Richie was too elated to do anything except brush his tongue against Eddie’s. He gripped onto Eddie for fear that this is all some dream.

“I really do think you’re funny.” Eddie told him when he pulled back.

Richie snorted. “Okay.”

“I’m being serious.” Eddie gently shoved at Richie’s shoulders, making both of them giggle. He leaned up to kiss Richie once more, sagging his entire weight up against Richie. 

While Richie wasn’t too drunk to get a boner, but also wasn’t too drunk to realize that Eddie _was_ entirely too drunk. “Take it easy.” Richie mumbled against Eddie’s lips.

“I don’t want to.” Eddie said, but he was slumping, cheek against Richie’s chest. Richie was holding him up around his waist. “You’re cozy.”

“And you’re heavier than you look.” Richie said.

“Fuck off.”

Richie had him around the middle with one arm. The other hand came up to push through Eddie’s hair.

“You’re also very nice.” Eddie murmured.

“Huh.” Richie was leaning up against the sink, almost sitting on it with Eddie snug between his legs, face against his chest. “I think you’re just drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“Words said one hundred times by people who are very drunk.”

Eddie pulled away suddenly. “Oh fuck, I think I’m gonna puke.”

Richie helped him lean over the toilet. “Point proven.”

“Don’t watch me puke!” Eddie exclaimed.

Richie turned around, hands up in the air. “Wasn’t about to. Didn’t want to cause a chain reaction.” He tapped on the sink, looking at himself in the mirror. He looked disheveled, drunk and sweaty. His hair was everywhere, thick framed glasses crooked on his face. He pushed them up into his hair to splash water on his face. “You okay?” He asked toward Eddie.

“Uh huh. Just … need water.” Eddie said, followed by the sound of the toilet flushing.

“Hang on.” Richie opened the door to the bathroom, eyebrows raised when he found someone waiting outside of it. “Oh, we got a puker, you’re going to have to wait.”

Richie found Eddie a cup for water and went back to tend to him. Poor guy. 

Eddie rinsed his mouth out with water. “Thanks.” Eddie said. “More water?” He asked after he was finished.

Richie grinned a little. He filled it with more water from the sink. “Feel better?” He asked as Eddie swished the water in his mouth. 

“Mhm.” Eddie murmured. “Help?” He asked, holding his arms out for Richie to take.

“You sure you’re done puking?” Richie asked.

“Yep.” 

Richie offered Eddie his hands and pulled him up from the floor. He let Eddie lean on him as they headed out of the bathroom. Richie led him over to Stan’s couch. Richie sat down and it felt like he was going in some kind of wobbly slow motion as Eddie moved with him. 

Eddie draped his leg over Richie’s right thigh. The warmth of their thighs pressing together was comfortable, grounding. They kept talking about nothing, just filling the space between each other until it was physically being filled. Eddie’s side is tucked into his. Richie dared put his hand on Eddie’s knee. Eddie didn’t jerk away. It felt like he pushed his knee more into Richie’s hand as he reclined against the armrest. Richie couldn’t take his eyes off of Eddie, hyper-aware of the fact that Eddie was just a few inches away from just being in his lap. Honestly, he shouldn’t have been so attracted to someone he’d just heard throw up, but there he was.

When Stan entered the room with a trash bag, gathering up empty cups, Richie let out a low sigh from his nose.

“Up, Kaspbrak. Party’s over.” Stan said, slapping the underside of Eddie’s heel where it was hanging over the armrest, leg across Richie. Eddie jerked his foot away from the arm of the couch, but flopped it back down over Richie’s thigh. 

“I can’t go home like this. My mom is going to murder me.” Eddie said.

“Crash on the couch, but do not puke on it or _I’ll_ murder you.” Stan said in a tone that Richie believed. 

Stan also gave Richie a pointed look. 

Richie held his hands up in defense. Richie scooped Eddie’s leg off of him so he could get up. Eddie was holding up his middle finger at Richie. “I was comfy, asshole.” 

It made Richie laugh.

He was helping Stan clean up while the last of the guests dispersed. “Wait, where the fuck is Bev?” He asked. Stan shrugged. Richie dug his phone out of his pocket after a moment.

 **Bev** : I invited Bill to the house, just an fyi. We left.

Richie rolled his eyes. “You have to be fucking kidding me.”

“What?” Stan asked.

“Bev left with Bill.” It wasn’t _that_ big of a deal, honestly. Richie just wanted to avoid as much of an awkward encounter as possible.

Richie went to the living room to find Eddie sound asleep and stretched out on the couch, mouth open and arm draped over his eyes, chest gently rising and falling. Richie put a blanket over him.

Suddenly, Richie was feeling very sad. The overbearing feeling of loneliness was filling up the warmth that had been there while he was at the party. It was happening fast too. He poked his head back into the kitchen where Stan was wiping the counter. 

“Can I crash here too?”

“Sure.” Stan said. He put the rag in the sink, then smiled at Richie. “Come on.”

He followed Stan into his room where Stan kicked his jeans into a pile in the floor. Stan patted the place beside him in his bed. Richie shed most of his clothes and climbed in with him. They shifted into a comfortable cuddle, Stan’s arm around Richie. It felt nice. 

“I kissed Eddie.” Richie said.

“Oh? How was that?” Stan asked.

“It was … interesting. Well, he kissed me.” Richie said. “Then he threw up.”

“Classy.” Stan said with a yawn following. “Hey - you didn’t like have your dick out in my house or anything, did you?”

“What? No, we barely even _kissed_.”

“Good. Because you’re forbidden to have your dick out in my house.”

Richie turned his head to look back at Stan, grinning wide. “Oh, I am?”

“ _Yes_.” Stan said firmly.

“I can think of a reason or two you might not mind if my dick was out.”

Richie could feel the gentle breath of Stan’s laugh against his neck. “Not a chance.”

.

In the week that followed, Richie found his mind in a whirlpool of thoughts about Eddie. His mind would wander back to that night and the way that he’d laughed with Eddie like he hadn’t with anyone else in a long time. The probability of Eddie remembering that they kissed was a fifty-fifty, honestly. Richie found himself planning out how his next conversation with Eddie would go. 

He had some distractions though. The air conditioning was busted again at Neibolt Street Records. The buzz of fans was drowning out the sound of the music spilling from the speakers near the counter. Sort of defeated the purpose. Still yet, Robert Smith’s voice was humming loudly enough that Richie could understand the words, mostly because he’d heard them so many times.

_Holding you close, how I always held close in your fear // Remembering you running soft through the night // You were bigger and brighter and wider than snow_

Richie had given up on wearing two layers, his loud-patterned button-up draped over the edge of the counter, leaving him in a t-shirt that he was pretty sure had sweat rings at this point. He had gotten no response when he texted Steve about it being sweltering inside the place. Richie was about two seconds away from telling Bill to go home and just putting out the closed sign (yes, he had given the guy he hooked up with who was now hooking up with his roommate the other cashier job). 

Then through the doors of the shop came Eddie. He was dressed in tight-fitted navy slacks and a white button up. His hair was combed in a perfect little swoop. 

Richie stood up straight from where he was slumped over the counter, enjoying the breeze from a fan. “Hey.”

Eddie was holding two iced coffees. Eddie put one of the coffees down on the counter. “For you for putting up with me blacking out.”

Richie reached up to adjust his glasses. Eddie probably didn’t remember the kiss. So he wouldn’t bring it up either. Showing up at Richie’s work with coffee was new though. It made Richie’s gut stir with hope. 

Eddie was grinning at him, which made Richie feel less nervous and more warm. His gaze lingered on Eddie for a moment before he ducked his head again. “No biggie. I was drunk too. Thanks for the coffee though.” Richie said, twirling the straw around a little.

“Holy fuck it’s hot in here.” Eddie pulled his collar away from his neck, giving Richie a brief flash of tanned skin.

“Yeah, I told my boss it’s driving customers away, but really, it’s about the same as it usually is.” Richie grinned.

“It needs a new name. Neibolt Street Records sounds like somewhere you come to file your personal documents or shred business papers.” Eddie said.

“Right? It needs a total revamp.” Richie had suggested this to his boss before, and Steve brushed him off.

“Are you ever going to recommend me music or what?” Eddie asked.

“Okay, what music do you _like_?” Richie asked.

“What? Why does that fucking matter?” Eddie asked. “You’re supposed to tell me stuff.”

“If I don’t know your taste I can’t lead you in the right direction.” Richie explained.

Richie felt his insides squirming with excitement as he leaned on the counter and talked to Eddie about _music_ . The shop was dead. It was fine. Eddie said he liked everything, which was no help what-so-ever. When he _finally_ started naming off Fleetwood Mac, Joni Mitchel, and ABBA, Richie was starting to at least get somewhere. Also, he was excited by the aspect that Eddie liked ABBA as much as Richie did. When Eddie mentioned that he liked Ariana Grande and Adele, Richie was practically dying to tell Bev that he had more proof that Eddie was gay.

“Okay, give me some time to think.” Richie said. “You’re hard to get.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “What the _fuck_?” Eddie sounded offended. “You’re hard to get!” He spat back.

“Richie’s n-n-not hard to get. He cries while he listens to The Cure. D-d-don’t let him fool you.” Bill chimed in. “He was getting teary-eyed before you came in.”

“That’s private information, Billiam.” Richie glanced over his shoulder.

“Come on, Eddie.” Bill gestured for Eddie to follow him over to one of the ailes. 

Richie felt his stomach twist with unease at the exchange of eye contact that Eddie and Bill were sharing. Richie looked between them when they started talking, then gave his attention to the bin of records he was touching. He made sure to crack a few jokes while he eavesdropped on some of their conversation, just to make Eddie glare at him or laugh softly, depending.

.

“What’s wrong?” Mike asked Richie when they were settled at Mike’s table for dinner. It was just the two of them this Wednesday. Perhaps Richie was still skulking a little about Bill and Eddie talking. 

“You’ll never guess who stopped by the shop today.” Richie said.

“Dwayne The Rock Johnson.”

“Close.”

“Harrison Ford.”

Richie sighed, “Okay, you’re just naming celebrities you're attracted to.”

“You were right, I’d never guess.” Mike said with a shrug.

Richie completely understood what it was like to have a conversation with himself now. He was rubbing off on his friends. “Anyway.” He went on, “Eddie stopped in, so it was actually a guy that _I’m_ attracted to and have no chance with that came into the store. And bought me coffee.”

“Coffee? He could be interested.” Mike pointed out.

“Everyone keeps saying that he’s straight, but he likes Ariana Grande and ABBA.” Richie said. 

“Sounds very judgemental and stereotypical for you to make assumptions based on that.” Mike said.

Richie rolled his eyes. “It’s all in good fun and hopes of getting laid.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Anyway, Jesus ... I did think that we were _vibing_. I can never really tell what he’s thinking.” Richie explained. “But fucking Bill totally fucking ruined any chance and swooped in like a hawk and Eddie was a baby mouse.”

“I’m sure he didn’t swoop in like a hawk.” Mike said, unconvinced.

“Well, he did something and it pissed me off.”

“Isn’t he dating Bev anyway?” Mike asked.

“I think that’s just casual.” Richie said.

“I’m sure that Bill didn’t mean to do anything to piss you off. He seems like a nice guy. He’s been very cool every time I’ve talked to him.” Mike said.

Richie rolled his eyes. “Bet you’re biased because you think he’s cute.”

“No comment.” Mike said. “Anyway - why don’t you tell him you have your eye on Eddie?”

“Ugh. How embarrassing.” Richie tilted his head back. He looked back at Mike, brows furrowed. “What am I supposed to say; _Hey, Bill, you know Eddie? Yeah, the one with carmely doe eyes? The one you’re trying to fuck? I like him. Everyone else knows him except for me, which I am also taking fucking personally, by the way. I have my eye on him. Thought you should know before you take him to pound town and cause me to fucking fire you._ ”

.

“Uh.” Bill was quiet when Richie finally got around to saying something like that to him later that week (he didn’t threaten his job over it, nor did he explicitly say he thought that Bill wanted to fuck Eddie). “Sorry if it came off like that? We’re just close.” Bill said. “Eddie’s - he’s straight.”

So everyone kept saying. Richie knew for a fact he was at least curious. Because he had kissed Richie first! Some say drunk words are sober thoughts. Did the same go for actions? 

“Okay, that’s what everyone keeps telling me but those shorts he was wearing at the party said otherwise.” Richie would die on the hill of Eddie Kaspbrak not being straight.

“What do shorts have to do with someone’s sexuality?” Bill asked.

“The length of your pants has everything to do with sexuality.” Richie said.

“Well what about mine?” Bill asked, looking down at his rolled up jeans.

“Bisexual people roll their jeans.”

“What?”

“I don’t make the rules. It just is, Bill.”

“Wow.” Betty said from where she was perched on one of the shelves nearby. She was Richie’s other cashier. She sipped on her coffee, eyebrows high on her forehead.

“Oh my fucking god.” Richie turned his head. “This is a private conversation, dude.” Richie was holding out his hands, sounding exasperated.

“You’re literally having it where I or any customer that comes in can hear you.” Betty gestured to the open sign. She crossed her ankles where they were dangling. “Is this about the cutie patootie that came in here with coffee?”

“Yes.” Richie said with a longing sigh.

“If he brought you coffee, he’s interested. I’m just saying. You should text him.” Betty suggested with a shrug.

“I don’t have his fucking number.” Richie grumbled. Because they were months into their friendship and asking for his number now was weird.

“Uh, I bet Bill does.” Betty gestured over to where Bill had started readjusting records on their shelf.

“I - I don’t know if I should give out his number. I mean, t-t-that’s private.” Bill wasn’t looking up. 

“You are seriously fucking useless.” Richie said. “I’m going to have to like DM him on social media like a weirdo.”

“Don’t go that route.” Betty said.

.

 **Richie** : hi Eddie. its Richie. Bill gave me your number so i could rec you music 😎  
 **Eddie** : Oh. Let’s see if you get me.  
 **Richie** : here’s a small playlist i made just for you 

**Eddie** : I'll give you my review soon.  
 **Eddie** : ... And yes, I do already enjoy some of the songs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from: Perfect Situation by Weezer  
> Song playing in the record store: Pictures of You by The Cure


	5. 4. This Dream Isn't Feeling Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Eddie leave the bar with the wrong guys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: depression, drug use, self medication

Over the last few months, Eddie’s lunch hour had turned the record shop into some version of a therapy office. Richie didn’t mind listening to Eddie’s latest complaint about his mom. Richie held his tongue as much as he could stand, because it wasn’t his situation to comment on. He could hold his tongue when it really mattered. He needed to be a good friend. 

The more that Eddie talked about Sonia, the more that Richie _hated_ her. Eddie was different when he spoke about her. It wasn’t the same ranting tone that he used when he talked about work. Sometimes when he talked about work, as irritated as Richie could tell that he was, he at least was able to throw in a joke here and there. He was rigid and nervous while he spoke, brows drawn tight and hands kneading nervously on each other. Richie wanted to know how someone could do so much damage to someone that they claimed to love.

Richie thought that Eddie seemed all-around pretty miserable, so Richie made it his personal mission to make Eddie smile or laugh. Even though Eddie tried very hard not to laugh or smile at him. Richie’s brain always replayed drunken Eddie admitting that he was funny after they’d kissed in Stan’s bathroom and figured he was doing more good than harm.

At the moment, Richie was just listening. They were sitting on the couch in the back office sharing a container of cheese fries that Eddie had brought them to share for lunch. Sometimes, he figured Eddie just needed to talk. He rarely talked about the way that he was feeling, just expressed general annoyance in his stories about work. Greta had apparently, unsurprisingly, managed to piss him off yesterday before he left work and left him highly annoyed all evening.

“Glad I missed _that_.” Richie said.

“Shut up.” Eddie said.

Richie just grinned.

“God, I’m sorry this is all I talk about.” Eddie said finally.

“It’s okay. You’re going to have to start paying me for being your shrink though.” Richie shoved a fry in his mouth.

Eddie glared at him. “Aren’t therapists supposed to actually help?”

“You saying I’m not helpful?” Richie asked.

“Nope.”

“Here’s some help: come to the bar this weekend.” Richie said. “Get your mind off all that shit. Bev and I were talking about going and - ”

“Are you going to be in drag?” Eddie asked.

Richie lifted his head a little. “Do you want me to be in drag?”

“I was just curious.”

Richie held back a grin. “For you, Eddie. Anything. Anything at all. You want the cheetah print vibes or the pink sparkles?”

Eddie looked like he might have been contemplating it. “Cheetah print.”

“Okay, now you have to come.” Richie insisted.

“Fine.” Eddie said.

It was unfortunate that the high that Richie got from Eddie enjoying seeing him in drag couldn’t have extended to Friday. It was Richie’s day off. Deep within his own mind, Richie was spiraling. Even though he was looking forward to the time that he was going to be spending with his friends … and with Eddie, he was having to hype himself up for it. The shades were drawn in his room well past noon, keeping it cold and dark and perfect for depression to continue to manifest. He didn’t eat anything, didn’t do much other than sleep, until it was close to time to meet up.

He got ready at the make-shift vanity in his room. He pulled his hair back with a scrunchie and wig cap. Leaning in close, Richie examined the scruff that he was currently sporting and huffed. “Fuck it.” He applied the foundation to the rest of his face. By the time that he was filling in his eyeliner, he was feeling pretty good. The bright red lipstick as a finishing touch was a good way to distract from his mood.

It didn’t matter that he’d spent the afternoon laying in the bed. At least that’s what he told himself as he rode in the car with Bev there. She didn’t ask him about what was wrong, thank God, because he didn’t have time to unpack his mental health.

Richie was mingling on the back porch and trying to find something to improve his mood. There was a cute guy leaning against the post. Richie had seen him there before. Richie knew what he had. Only a few key words later and Richie was in the bathroom snorting a line from the sink. 

When he was finished, he wished that the mood boost was instantaneous. He knew he’d be feeling it soon enough, so he went back to talk with his friends. They’d pushed two tables together and were huddled together laughing. Richie smiled fondly.

He pulled up a chair between Bev and Eddie, pushing his way into the group.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Stan asked.

“I told you I was going to smoke.” Richie said.

“That’s funny, because I went to smoke and you weren’t there.” Bev turned her head to put in.

“Jesus Christ. I had to piss? Sorry I didn’t ask for everyone’s permission.” Richie brushed past the comments. He looked over at Eddie, grinning. “Did I keep you waiting?”

“Believe it or not, I didn’t just come here for you.” Eddie said.

“You pain me, Eds.” Richie put the back of his hand against his forehead dramatically.

Eddie was trying not to smile, but his dimples gave him away. 

“I did not know Trashmouth was gracing us with her presence!” Mike said excitedly when he returned to the table.

“Per Eds request.” Richie said, batting his fake eyelashes toward Eddie.

“Trashmouth is more fun to be around.” Eddie said.

“Can’t argue that.” Richie said.

.

Richie was attempting to soak in the atmosphere that always made him feel so good. He felt like he was floating through, like everyone was going slower than he was. He felt good. That was until he noticed that Eddie was at the other side of the bar, laughing at a random guy. He even put his hand on the guy’s arm. The argument that Eddie was straight had been out the door for months at this point. This wasn’t the first time Richie (or anyone else in their friend group) had seen Eddie talking to other guys. This wasn’t even the first time that Richie had known that Eddie was leaving the bar with others guys. It never felt good. 

Although, Richie couldn’t really talk because he did the same things. He hadn’t ever mentioned to Eddie that he had feelings for him, and yet Richie was still engulfed in the feeling of not being good enough before he’d even been turned down. Richie decided tonight just wasn’t the night for them. He often thought that when something like this got in the way. Maybe it would happen eventually. Maybe the feelings would just go away.

As the rest of their friends had dissipated to do their own things, Richie talked to Ben. He was getting to know more about him other than these images of a bearded yogi who does watercolor painting as a hobby. It turned out Ben was exactly what he seemed, although he was truly more sweet and a lot less pretentious than Richie assumed at first. Not that he was one to talk working at a record store.

Bev and Patty were out on the dance floor. Richie was contemplating joining them, when Richie’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. At some point, Eddie had gone out there with them. Eddie’s shorts were tight, hugging his butt and thighs in the right way. His t-shirt was clinging on too. But the worst part was that it wasn’t just the tight clothes and the swivel of the hips that had Richie’s attention. It was the way he threw his head back in a laugh, the deep dimples standing out against his cheeks. Lights danced around him. The earth orbited around _him_ he was shining so bright. Richie wanted more than anything to orbit around him too. Fuck he already was.

He went to the bar to get a drink. He flirted a little with a guy who was sitting at the bar who said he liked watching him perform, asked why he was all dressed up when there wasn’t a performance. That was the thing that Richie loved about being in drag. He loved the attention. He felt gorgeous and powerful. Trashmouth could do anything she wanted to, have any guy she wanted. Drag had a delusional kind of ego and people played right along with it.

Richie wasn’t opposed to playing into the guy’s questions, but instead, he just took the shot that he bought for him and waved.

When he got back to the table, he caught Stan sitting there alone, watching the dance floor.

“Stare much?” Richie asked.

“Oh you’re one to talk.” Stan said sharply.

“You always say I should talk to Eddie. Why don’t you talk to Patty?”

Stan looked at Richie. “Because she likes girls.”

“How do you know that for sure?” Richie asked.

“We met at a gay bar.”

“Okay. And does that mean that you exclusively like guys?”

“No.”

Richie held his hands out. “Then what the fuck? Why couldn’t the same apply with her.”

“Because she’s dancing with Bev like that.” Stan gestured out to the dance floor.

Bev and Patty were pressed up against each other. Patty’s arms wrapped around Bev, Bev’s arms hooked tight onto Patty’s. They were both grinning, leaning to whisper things to each other.

“Even if she’s into both, it’s like how do I stand a chance against girls? Girls are so nice, they’re pretty and they smell good.” Stan looked back out onto the dance floor longingly.

Richie felt for him. He really, really did. “You’ll never know if you don’t at least ask.”

Stan looked back at Richie and rolled his eyes. He pushed himself up from the table. “It’s getting late. I’m tired. You sticking around or …?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Suit yourself.” Stan said before he turned away to go.

Despite everything, Richie could feel reality settling around him and he never liked that. Still, he sat at their table, which was empty now. Everyone was doing their own thing. Richie hated not having a distraction, something to fill his attention. He contemplated going back to the bar to talk to the guy from earlier.

“You okay?” Ben had returned to the table.

Richie was ripped out of his spiraling thoughts. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“You just … looked like you were looking at someone out there.”

“Oh, just admiring the crowd.” Richie rested his chin in his hand.

Eyes flicked beyond Ben and over to the dark corner where Eddie was talking with Bill. Richie took in a deep breath through his nose. Fucking Bill.

“I know what you mean.” Ben’s eyes were out on the dancefloor.

“Don't tell me Ben Handsome is _longing_.”

“Well, I - uh - not particularly.” Ben sputtered, like maybe he really was too.

Richie grinned. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

Richie was okay with sitting there, talking to Ben. He liked making him blush light pink and Richie could tell by the way he smiled about it that it actually made him feel good.

“But I don’t think you have to look out there longingly like that. You could get any guy that you wanted.” Richie told him.

“Not, no - ” Ben laughed nervously. “I’m not really good at talking to people.”

“Ben, you’re fucking nice. You’re fucking hot. How many people have hit on you since you’ve come in here?”

“A few.”

“Exactly.”

“Yeah, but guys are _guys_. They just want to fuck, period.”

“Then why the fuck am I sitting here like this? It’s because gay men are shallow.” Richie said. “Or because I’m dressed like a woman, but … that has it’s own audience.”

“Are you saying you can’t get laid?” Ben asked skeptically.

“It’s not as easy as it fucking looks. I mean, trust that 90% of the guys in here are just trying to fuck, but doesn’t mean there aren’t twenty other guys in here hotter than I am. And to top it all off, I’m literally surrounded by dudes that are hotter than me all the time.”

“I think you look pretty.”

Richie felt his heart pick up a little, excitement stirring in his gut. He played with a strand of his wig, really milking it. “You really think I’m pretty, Ben?” 

“Yeah, I do.” Ben said. “I mean, obviously, tonight you look nice.”

One of two things was happening - Ben was into him or Ben was too nice. When Ben was receptive to Richie putting his hand on his arm, Richie started feeling really good. As they kept talking, Richie turned more toward Ben in his chair, and Ben did the same thing. Their knees touched, and Richie dared to stretch his leg out a little, rub his leg against Ben’s as they kept talking.

“You want to come outside with me for a smoke?” Richie asked.

When Ben followed him outside, Richie was really feeling good about this. He lit his cigarette, then offered one to Ben, who put his hand up and shook his head.

“Then why’d you come out here?” Richie asked.

“I just like talking to you.” Ben said.

Richie nodded slowly. Ben was a little bit awkward, but Richie could live with that. He puffed on his cigarette, filling the silence with talk about nothing. Ben laughed in the right places, commented in the others. 

“Can I kiss you?” Richie asked.

“Okay.”

It was a nice kiss. Ben was a good kisser. 

“Sorry I taste like cigarettes.” Richie felt giddy, giggling a little as he spoke.

“It’s fine.” Ben was smiling at him.

They went back to kissing. Richie’s fingers curled into the back of Ben’s neck, desperate for some kind of contact. He could feel Ben’s hands on his waist.

“God, I’ve got lipstick all over your face. I’m sorry.” Richie laughed, still close to Ben. He moved his thumb to wipe some from the corner of Ben’s mouth.

“It’s okay.” Ben said with a laugh. Ben wrapped his hand around Richie’s arm.

Richie swallowed. “Do you … want to go somewhere more private?” Richie asked leaning in close to Ben’s ear. There was no way to misread the situation if you tackled it head on.

And Ben invited Richie back to his apartment. His apartment was two streets over, and Richie didn’t feel uneasy one time while he walked with his arm in Ben’s. 

Ben gave Richie a washcloth to get his face cleaned up and offered him a drink. They made out again, less lipstick involved this time. But it fizzled out nearly as soon as it started. It didn’t feel the same as it had outside of the bar under the streetlight.

“This isn’t working, is it?” Richie asked.

“No, no it’s … You’re a good kisser.” Ben said earnestly.

Richie smiled. “You are too.”

“You’re just saying that.” Ben blushed.

“It’s okay if you’re not really feeling this. That can be it.” Richie could tell now that Ben was too polite to stop him otherwise. 

“I’m sorry.” Ben looked down. “I’m not so good at this kind of thing. And we’re friends, ya know? I don’t want to make it weird.”

Richie hesitated for a moment, wishing that he couldn’t relate to Ben so much. He also wished that he could just be offended or something and just go, but Ben was comforting. He had a warm aura and kind eyes. Richie felt comfortable with him. “I’m just … lonely.” Richie admitted.

“Me too.” Ben smiled. He looked like he had something else to say, but he was holding back.

“What’s up?” Richie asked, sitting upright.

“Well, I sort of … like someone.”

“Oh boy! Who’s the lucky person?”

“Beverly.”

“Bev?”

“Bev.”

Richie shook his head. “I knew I should’ve worn my red wig tonight.”

Ben laughed.

“Oh my _god_. She needs a good guy like you in her life.” Richie gently hit Ben’s arm. “You should tell her!”

“Well … she and Bill sort of ... so I’m not trying to … I mean, I want to make sure that’s nothing serious.” Ben rambled.

“Trust me, she’s _been_ over that.”

“I don’t know, Richie. Please, don’t say anything.”

“I won’t say anything.”

“You promise?”

“Yes.” Richie said sincerely. “I’m actually pretty good at keeping secrets.”

“You can still crash here.” Ben offered. “We can cuddle if you want.”

“Yeah, that would be nice.” Richie said.

* * *

Eddie liked attention. Sure it was still taking some adjusting, but Eddie wanted the chances to let himself flirt and fuck if it came to it. In the moment, hooking up with Bill seemed really great. Standing in the bathroom at Bill’s house the next morning, Eddie looked at his reflection in the mirror over the sink and wasn’t feeling so great about it. He’d splashed water on his face, which had perked him up a little. Being in last night's clothes, sweaty and hungover wasn’t ideal. He just knew that everyone was going to find out about this. 

Was he just going to … leave? That was a good call. He didn’t have to talk about it if he just left. He’d left his phone in the room though and Bill might have woken up already. 

Eddie blew out a heavy breath before he went back into the room.

“Hey.” Bill was rubbing his eye with the back of his hand.

“Hi.” Eddie said, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“Want me to make breakfast?” Bill asked.

“Sure.” Eddie said.

Bill burnt the toast. They had a good laugh about it and Eddie felt infinitely better after they laughed together. Things felt lighter, and less like Eddie was regretting his life choices. The sex had been good enough. He might as well just leave it as another hookup and stop worrying about what everyone else was going to think about it.

See that was Eddie’s problem too. He was always focused on what other people were thinking, when in reality, it wasn’t like anyone was really going to judge him for this. He definitely wasn’t the first in the friend group to do it, and he might not be the last.

It was really stupid, but Eddie knew that he had that lingering crush on Richie, and sometimes when he slept with other people it felt wrong, because he knew how he felt. As much as he tried to push it away. His mind kept going back to Stan’s party, where drunk Eddie had been bold enough to kiss Richie and drape his leg across Richie’s lap. Sober Eddie wasn’t nearly as bold as the super drunk party Eddie had been. In fact, he hadn’t been bold enough to even bring up the fact that he remembered the kiss. On the other hand, he wasn’t so sure that Richie even remembered the kiss, so maybe it was for the best that Eddie just kept it to himself. Especially now.

But why was that feeling so different with Richie and any other guy that he was interested in? Maybe … maybe he really liked Richie. Maybe he loved him. God. That was … a weird thought. He couldn’t love someone he didn’t even want to tell he liked kissing them. If there was a chance that Richie felt the same way about Eddie, it was about to be shot in the fucking foot once everyone found out he had sex with Bill.

Eddie got back home after noon. By the time he’d rode the bus back across town to his mom’s, he felt like his head was going to explode with the hangover he was experiencing. He felt like one of those crisp little dried up starfish that he saw on the beach on those rare occasions he’d gone. He wasn’t looking forward to the argument that was about to unfold with his mother.

She could smell the alcohol on Eddie and that was the first lecture. Staying out all night and spending the night with someone, because apparently she could tell that he’d done that as well, was the next one. Eddie clenched his fists, but didn’t say anything back. He was dying to divulge the secret that he had in fact slept with Bill, of all people, who his mom didn’t like very much. Part of that was satisfying. He’d done that and even if she never found out, it still felt good.

He thought that it was possibly making her angrier that he wasn’t saying anything back. At this point, she was used to him giving her some kind of fuel to go on and on, but with him silent, she had nothing to go on. Though silence rarely stopped her either.

“I’m taking a shower.” Eddie interrupted her.

“When you get out I’ll get you a bottle of Pedialyte to drink with your pills.”

“Thanks, mom.”

The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them. He wanted to say fuck that, but honestly, that was a great cure of a hangover and he needed it. Fighting it made things worse. Today was not the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from: Ribs by Lorde
> 
> One day I'll have my full playlist for this in order and share it.
> 
> Talk to me on twitter @rayofsunshlnc


	6. 5. Have You No Idea That You're In Deep?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When are Richie and Eddie going to get on the same page at the same time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of dialogue in the one, friends.
> 
> Warnings: infidelity and undertones of it too

Annoyed was by far an understatement. Furious was _a little_ over the top. He was at Mike’s for Wednesday dinner when Stan told him that Eddie and Bill had slept together less than three weeks ago. Richie felt his heartbeat pulsing in his ears as he tried to react like a normal person who was nonchalantly annoyed by the situation, when really he felt like his heart had dropped down into a permanent liquid form somewhere in his stomach. 

“Come on, Richie. At least you know it’s not that serious.” Stan offered.

“It’s not  _ just _ that it happened. It’s that I asked him not to do it.” Richie said.

“Wasn’t that months ago?” Mike asked.

Richie glared over at Mike.

“I’m just saying. Maybe Bill didn’t think that you were interested anymore.” Mike said.

Really, Richie knew he had no reason to be pissed. He had never mentioned to Eddie how he felt. He’d even left the bar the same night with all intentions of hooking up with someone else (even though he hadn’t actually done it). Also, Mike potentially had a point. He was sure that Bill hadn’t intentionally done anything to bother Richie, even though it fucking felt like it. Richie wasn’t going to admit that out loud. But it was the fucking principal. Friends weren’t supposed to fuck friends that other friends had crushes on … or something.

“Why are you always defending Bill?” Richie asked.

“I’m not always defending Bill.” Mike poked his fork back into his vegetables. He was very focused on his plate and he didn’t look back up at Richie while he was talking. “I’m just trying to get you to look at things rationally.”

Stan snorted. “Good luck with that.”

“I am looking at things rationally. It doesn’t make it suck any less.” Richie said.

“To be honest, I’m shocked that Eddie doesn’t know about how you feel about him.” Stan said.

“Which is what makes this sting just a little bit more.” Richie admitted, gesturing with a pinch of air between his fingers.

“Your grown adults.” Stan started. 

Richie got up from the table to retrieve the second bottle of wine from the counter while Stan was talking and rolled his eyes on the way. 

“Just tell him how you feel, that way he can tell you he feels the same way. Or he can tell you that he doesn’t and you can’t get over it.” Stan was always trying to put things in black and white, but it wasn’t like that.

“Solid advice, coming from someone who refuses to tell Patty how he feels.” Richie shot back.

“That’s not - I don’t - I - ”

“You like Patty?” Bev interrupted Stan.

“Um, well - ” Stan said, “yes.”

Bev started laughing softly, putting her hand up over her mouth.

“Gees, Bev. Way to rub it fucking in.” Stan said.

“No, I’m sorry!” Bev took in a little breath to stop herself from laughing more. “I’m laughing because she and I were convinced that you were gay.”

“Pardon?” Stan asked.

Richie started laughing. “Oh my god. Wait, seriously? Stan is also convinced that Patty’s gay.”

“You think that Patty’s gay?” Bev asked toward Stan.

“I mean, we met at a gay bar! I don’t know!” Stan exclaimed. “I thought that you - and her - ”

“Oh this is great.” Richie filled Stan’s wine glass up a little more before he went to his own seat. He figured Stan needed it just as much as he did.

Mike was clearly trying not to laugh too. 

“Me?” Bev asked. “I mean, Patty _is_ amazing, but she’s totally interested in you.”

“Really?” Stan asked.

“So you  _ aren’t _ gay?” Bev asked.

“No! I’m pan. I don’t give a shit about gender.” Stan said.

“So is Patty.” Bev said.

“What did I tell you?” Richie said in a sing-song voice.

“Shut up.” Stan glared over at him. “Don’t say anything to her before I can.” He said toward Bev, finger raised at her and all.

“I won’t.” Bev held her hands up in defense.

At least there was a little entertainment at dinner to distract Richie from how shitty he was feeling. He hoped that Stan talked to Patty and it worked out, even if a little piece of him was jealous that everything was always so easy for Stan.

Richie had supposedly sworn off dating and hookup apps, but he downloaded grindr back on his phone after dinner. When the download finished, he opened the app on his phone and quickly filled out his profile. He put the main screen on, then sat his phone down in the middle of the table. The four of them browsed the screen of men and faceless torsos.

“Talk to that guy. He’s at least willing to show his face.” Stan said, poking at Richie’s phone screen.

“Does it really matter?” Richie asked.

“You don’t want to at least see who you’re going to bang first?” Mike asked.

“I mean, yeah.” Richie said. “Shallow though.”

“And picture of abs isn’t?” Stan asked.

“Fine, I’ll message the guy with the face.” Richie pulled his phone away from the prying eyes to send the message.

Later, Richie was sprawled out on his mattress alone when he did his second round of browsing. That was when he saw Eddie’s picture. Richie lingered on his profile, looking at the photo he’d chosen. No smiles, all tight lipped and big brown eyes. 

Richie smiled at the screen. He touched Eddie’s nose on his phone, as if he could boop it from where he was.

He sent a message.

Richie: hey hot stuff, you come here often 🥵

It had been too long since he’d seen Eddie. It made more sense why Eddie hadn’t been popping up at the shop for lunch lately. Richie had started thinking that he did something wrong. At least that wasn’t the case. So not only had Bill had sex with Eddie, he also stolen away Richie’s lunches with him. Fucker.

Maybe the Bill thing had meant something and Eddie was embarrassed to come around. Maybe it had meant nothing and Eddie just didn’t want to see Bill. Maybe Eddie was simply busy. Maybe he  _ was _ avoiding Richie for some reason. Maybe Richie was overthinking it. No maybe to the last one. Richie was definitely overthinking it.

Eddie: 🖕🏻   
Richie: that is what this app is for.   
Eddie: This isn’t my first rodeo   
Richie: yeehaw! 🤠   
Eddie: You’re stupid. Text me like a normal person.

Richie grinned to himself before he did send Eddie a real text instead of grindr message. They talked back and forth for a long while, until Richie fell asleep with his phone on his chest.

.

The next day at work was pretty bad. Richie was giving Bill the silent treatment. Richie not speaking was hard. He didn’t like sitting in silence ever, so he was struggling through it. Especially when Bill finally asked what was wrong.  Richie knew he couldn’t confront Bill about this while he was at work. He needed to let himself calm down a little before he said something overly dramatic. So he continued not to say anything. And made sure to speak to Betty in front of Bill when she came in for the evening shift.  It was clearly bothering Bill which gave Richie some satisfaction.

Although the next day, about half-way through their shift together Richie forgot he wasn’t speaking to Bill and started talking again. 

“Stan told me why you’re pissed off.” Bill said a little while after.

Richie sighed under his breath. “Great.” Richie moved away from Bill to straighten up the shelves that had been picked through by customers. He pushed the records so they were leaning back on the shelves, album covers displayed.

“I didn’t realize you were still feeling that way about Eddie.” Bill said, following behind him.

Richie shook his head. “It’s stupid anyway.”

“It’s not stupid to have feelings.” Bill said. “I-I-It’s hard.” The way he was saying it was so earnest that it almost made Richie more pissed off. What did someone who just carelessly hooked up with their friends know about having feelings?

“No shit.” 

“I’m sorry, Richie. I didn’t think. I was just trying t-t-t-to - ”

“Break the world record for the number of people one person can have sex with?” Richie asked.  Richie knew that Bill hated it when someone interrupted him when while he was stuttering, so maybe he'd done it on purpose.

“No.”

“See if you could fuck everyone in the friend group and not make it weird and complicated?” Richie asked.

“I liked it better when you weren’t talking.” Bill said quietly.

“Me too.” Richie said.

“Fine, but I didn’t do it to hurt your feelings. I’m sorry.”

Richie groaned, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. “I know, okay!” Richie threw his hands to the sides. “I know you weren’t fucking trying to hurt my feelings. I kind of wish that you were though so I could stay mad at you.”

Bill held up his hands in defeat. “I’ll shut up.”

“Thank you.” Richie said sharply. “I’ll get over it. Just … give me time.”

Bill nodded slowly. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“Sorry.”

“Bill.” Richie broke into a grin when he didn’t mean to. They both started laughing.

It did make the situation  _ worse _ now that Richie had no one to blame. He already knew that Bill hadn’t intentionally set out to make him feel like shit. Hearing it out loud made Richie feel like he was being irrational. It made him annoyed with himself more than anyone else.

And so, after work he went back to grindr.

One of the guys he’d been chatting with was willing to meet up. After the sun went down, Richie drove over to the mall. He parked behind the building, in the empty dingy part that wasn’t under a street light. He gripped his steering wheel, thumb tapping on it as he waited for the guy to show. 

When he did, Richie climbed into the back of his car with him. The guy (his initial on his grindr profile was 'J') said that he wanted to keep this lowkey.  Richie wasn’t unfamiliar with guys saying stuff like that. He’d met up with many closeted guys before this. So Richie nodded and tried to move along with the situation. But the guy insisted on telling Richie that his girlfriend couldn't find out.  Shoulder slumped. Richie rolled his eyes. Fuck. Now he just felt bad for the guy. And his girlfriend.  Richie fought back the urge to quite literally groan out loud when the guy said he didn't have a condom because he thought that they didn't need one. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled one out of his wallet. He shoved it into the guy’s hand and started unbuttoning his pants. 

The sex ended up being okay. It was harder to get off when you knew the entire back story. Richie would have rather they not have spoken to each other at all. Faceless and no talking was the way to go next time.

But he didn’t want there to have to be a next time.  Richie wasn't cut out for that shit anymore. It just made him depressed.

.

A few days later, Richie was still feeling a bit down about, well … everything. The dynamic in the friend group hadn’t changed necessarily, but Richie was struggling with being around them when Eddie wasn’t coming around and everyone else seemed to be moving in a positive direction with themselves. Bev was flourishing with her gallery, Stan was making big bucks with his cases, Mike was passionate about his job. The only person who wasn’t doing something they enjoyed was Bill, who wanted to write for more than just fun, but could never finish his novels properly. Richie was annoyed that he could kind of relate to Bill in the aspect of passion not being a feasible career.

And romance was blooming between Stan and Patty, Bill was back to his usual routine. Bev was happy with being single. Ben was still pining over her. Eddie was … well, uninterested in Richie. Not that he’d asked, but he was seeing other guys still.

Richie knew that being in a relationship wasn’t everything. He just felt so fucking undesirable lately. Grindr wasn't the proper solution. He’d just end up wondering if he was hooking up with some other person’s boyfriend. He tried face to face connections at Oasis and felt like he was getting nowhere. He was sitting at the end of the bar alone, drink empty. He looked down at his phone.  He opened up his text messages. 

He knew that he was making not so great decisions, but he was about to make the ultimate bad decision. He went to the corner to create a new message and type a new name in.

To: Connor

hey, long time, no talk. how’s it going.

——

“We need to have an intervention.”

Stan was sitting at the head of the table with his hands clasped. Five of them were sitting around Mike’s kitchen table. Richie had been invited to hang out too, but declined because he was busy. Eddie hadn’t seen Richie in entirely too long and it was getting weird, honestly. He had been purposefully avoiding the record store … but that was about Bill. And Richie. Being in the same place just the three of them. It seemed weird! Only because Eddie knew how he felt, and he didn’t want Richie to somehow find out the same month that he’d slept with another guy in their friend group. This whole thing was weird.

But basically, Eddie had been hoping that Richie would come hang out that night so that he could move past this Bill thing. But Richie apparently had something of his  _ own _ going on. 

“No, that won’t work. Richie does the opposite of what we tell him to do.” Bev said.

“What if we just remind Richie why Connor is the worst?” Mike asked.

Stan shook his head. “Too rational.”

“I like Connor.” Bill said.

“Seriously, Bill?” Stan asked. Mike groaned and Bev shook her head.

_ Someone _ . Richie had someone else who was occupying his time. Eddie had never heard this name and he was getting the feeling that there was a reason why. “Who’s Connor?” Eddie asked.

“Connor is the ex that Richie always goes back to when he’s feeling emotionally vulnerable.” Mike said.

“Wait, what’s wrong with Richie?” Eddie asked. He looked at everyone, but no one seemed to want to say what was wrong.

“Not for me to say.” Stan finally said.

“But talking about his ex  _ is _ for you to say?” Eddie pointed out sharply. He didn’t like them talking about Richie without him being there.

“That’s different. Connor is the devil himself. We have to work fast.” Stan said.

“Stan’s being a little dramatic.” Bev explained. “Richie dated Connor awhile back. Connor was pretty cool at first - ” 

“If you count being the world’s biggest douche as cool.” Stan interrupted.

Bev gave him a pointed look. “Anyway, he and Richie had a lot in common and they were really into each other. But then … well, Connor became the only thing in Richie’s life.”

“But he’d be weird about them going out on dates together. I don’t know if he was still in the closet or what the fuck his problem was.” Stan cut in. "All I know is that it made Richie feel like shit." 

“Connor is the smartest idiot that I’ve ever met. Dumb as a box of rocks, but he knows how to play Richie.” Mike said.

“He was weirdly jealous of his friends.” Bill said.

“On top of that, he’s  _ annoying _ .” Stan added.

“And Richie’s talking to him again?” Eddie asked.

“Oh, he’s not just talking to him. He’s been to the house.” Bev said, looking around the table.

“God, why does Richie do this?” Stan asked, massaging his temples with two fingers.

Eddie took in all the information and decided that he too did not like Connor. Obviously, he wasn’t going to like any guy that Richie was seeing anyway. But if he wasn’t any good for Richie, not liking him would be that much easier.

“I think you should talk to him.” Stan said toward Eddie.

“Me? Why me?” Eddie asked.

“Because you’re the least biased.” Mike said.

“And because Richie really trusts you.” Bev said.

“He’s known you guys longer than me. What makes you think he trusts me more?” Eddie asked.

Stan looked like he was bursting to say something, but wouldn’t. Mike was looking over at Stan and so was Bill.

“The way you guys are together, the way he opens up around you. It’s just … it’s different.” Bev said carefully.

Eddie sighed. “ _ Fine _ .”

.

Eddie: wtf dude I haven’t seen you in like a month.   
Richie: I know. you stopped coming by at lunch. I thought that you broke up with me.   
Eddie: 🙄   
Eddie: I want to get drunk. I don’t feel like going out.   
Richie: come by my place if you want.   
Eddie: I can bug someone else if you’re busy.   
Richie: no, it’s cool.   
Eddie: Okay. I’ll see you around 8?   
Richie: yay!

.

With all intentions of snooping in Richie’s life, Eddie rapped on the door around eight that evening. It was going to fucking hurt no matter what he found out. If Richie actually liked this dude, that was going to be a blow. If Richie was just fucking his ex … well, that wasn’t as bad, but it was still making Eddie grind his teeth.

Richie came to the door, a goofy grin on his face and crooked glasses. He was scruffy, hair all over the place, and wearing a Spice Girls tee. God. Eddie had never been so charmed by someone. It didn’t matter if Richie was like this or in full drag, Eddie adored him.

“Hiya.”

Eddie smiled, chest warm. “Hey.”

He followed Richie in through the door. He’d only ever been there once before. It was overwhelmingly Richie on all the shelves with some clear help from Bev with the wall decor. The house was cozy.

“Oh, by the way! Congratulations!” Richie exclaimed.

“What?” Eddie asked, attention back on Richie.

“Welcome to the I Had Sex With Bill Denbrough Club!” Richie was using an obnoxious announcers voice. 

Eddie’s glare made him look like he was capable of murder. “Oh fuck off. That’s old news.”

“I just wanted to offer you a proper welcome to the club. It’s never too late to accept your membership lanyard and t-shirt.” 

Eddie should have known this was coming. Another reason why he’d been avoiding the record store. Eddie rolled his eyes. “So Bill told you.”

“He didn’t have to tell me. All members get an automatic alert when someone new joins.”

Eddie made a noise that was close to a growl. “I’m not in the mood for this.”

“What’s wrong?” Richie asked. “Other than the fact that you had mediocre sex with Bill.”

Eddie glared daggers at Richie. “I swear to god, Richie. If you fucking say one more thing about that … ”

Richie acted like he was zipping his lips closed. He gestured to the couch and both of them sat down together.

“It was ... better than mediocre though.” Eddie mumbled. A lame attempt at trying to make Richie jealous and absolutely failing.

Richie laughed loudly. “That sounds promising.”

“Fuck off.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Not that I have an abundant amount of experience to compare it to, but …”

Richie raised his eyebrows. “No wonder with descriptions like that.”

“Are you fucking trying to piss me off?” Eddie asked.

“No!” Richie said, holding his hands up in defense. “I think any guy would be lucky to rail a little wordsmith like you.”

Eddie huffed out a dramatic noise. “Shut the fuck up. How’s that for words?”

“Very concise.”

Eddie took in a deep breath. Here went nothing.

“Besides, who says that I’m not the one  _ doing _ the railing?” Eddie asked.

Richie was quiet at that.

Eddie grinned. He felt a little proud of himself for silencing Richie. He wondered what Richie was thinking. “What? Did you assume that I was a bottom?” Eddie pressed on.

“I - I didn’t even know for sure that you liked guys until recently! I don’t know what you do.” Richie sputtered.

Eddie laughed softly. “You talk about sex so much, wouldn’t think you’d be embarrassed about talking about  _ me _ .”

“I’m not embarrassed. Just surprised that you want to talk about it.”

“Well, to be fair, I’ve only recently felt comfortable being more open about any of it.”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Richie asked.

“Yeah, it does.” Eddie said, even though in Richie’s tone he wasn’t sure whether he was talking about fucking or about being out. But he let it take the latter turn, steering away from the sex talk. “It’s nice to have friends who encourage me to be myself.” Brows all scrunched and both hands wrapped around his beer, Eddie went on. “I just can’t tell my mom that I like guys or anything like that.”

“Your mom wouldn’t be accepting? As much as she’s obsessed with you?”

Eddie glared a little. “She’s very … traditional in her way of thinking.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s … okay.” 

Eddie dared to scoot in closer to him, pressing up against his side. Richie put his arm around him, squeezing his shoulders. It felt so nice. It felt nice being close to someone who  cared about him in a different way than his mom did.  Eddie put the beer aside and slung his arm around Richie’s middle. His arm rested on Richie’s belly. He liked this feeling a lot. Richie smelled good, felt warm and solid.

“Are you close to your family?” Eddie asked.

“Nah.”

“Really?” Eddied asked, voice almost longing for the idea.

“Yeah.” Richie said. “I haven’t talked to my parents in years.”

“Sorry I brought it up.”

“No, it’s okay.” Richie said. “It’s … kind of my fault. I dropped out of college and assumed that they wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore. I felt like a disappointment before I even let them tell me that I was one. I don’t know. I think I did them a favor by moving away.” 

It seemed strange that Richie was talking with him so openly. Maybe their friends were right. He did trust Eddie. 

“Maybe you did yourself a favor if your parents really feel that way.” Eddie said.

“Jesus, Eddie.” Richie said with a laugh. “Harsh.”

“Maybe you’re just being melodramatic.” Eddie teased.

“Wow! This is the last time I tell you shit.” Richie laughed.

“So you didn’t finish college. Who cares?” Eddie said. “The shit you do is inspiring. It’s a lot to be proud of.”

“What do you mean?” Richie asked.

“Seeing you go out on stage and be Trashmouth. It’s inspiring.”

“Oh.” 

Eddie looked up at Richie, who was rubbing Eddie's arm.

“Don’t let it go to your head.” Eddie said.

“Too late!” Richie grinned. 

Eddie tilted his head up to look at him more, smiling too. Eyes darted to Richie’s lips. Nope. Not the right time. Not at all.

“Where’s Bev?" Eddie asked. "I thought she’d be here.”

“No, she’s hosting a painting workshop thing at the gallery. I politely told her I suck ass at painting. I told her to invite Ben though.”

“I see.” Eddie said. 

It was just the two of them. Alone. And Eddie was curled into Richie’s side, head on his shoulder. Richie only moved when his phone lit up. 

“Who’s that?” Eddie asked.

“Connor.” Richie said.

Eddie tried not to be disgruntled at that. But at least he had his chance to dig, like he was supposed to be. Which was fucked up. “How are things with him?” Eddie asked.

“They’re fine.” Richie said.

“Is it something serious?” Eddie asked, hand moving to poke at Richie’s chest.

“Nah. Earlier he said that he didn’t want things to get too serious.” Richie said.

“Do you like him?”

“What do you mean?” Richie asked with an uncomfortable laugh.

“I mean, do you want it to be something serious?” Eddie asked.

“Considering the fact that he’s my ex, I don’t know.”

“Why’d you start seeing him again if you don’t like him?” Eddie asked.

“Uh, I was bored and horny and didn’t feel like getting a fucking venereal disease from a grindr hookup.” Richie said.

“Gotcha.”

“Yeah.” Richie was quiet for a beat. “You seeing anyone?”

Eddie hummed softly. “I don’t like to kiss and tell.”

Richie rolled his eyes. “God, what a dork.”

“Shut up.” Eddie said.

“Also, earlier weren’t you telling me your position preferences? So apparently you do kiss and tell.” Richie said.

“Well, I didn’t really say either way. I just said  _ what if _ .” Eddie pointed out.

“What  _ do you _ prefer?” Richie asked.

“I prefer not to talk about it.” Eddie said.

“So I was right. You are a prude.”

“Fuck off, I’m not a prude.” Eddie spat. “What do you prefer?”

“I asked you first!” Richie said.

“So?”

“So you have to answer first.”

Eddie was feeling very warm, even though they weren’t really describing anything and clearly weren’t  _ doing _ anything. But sitting pressed close to Richie and talking about sex made him feel hot under the collar, like it was bubbling up in his groin and threatening to give him a truly embarrassing boner. But he was literally in Richie’s arms, everything smelled like Richie, and the soft expanse of his belly against Eddie’s arm was almost too much.

“I don’t mind switching, but I like to top.” Eddie admitted.

“You are bossy.” Richie said. “But I pictured you as more of a power bottom, honestly.”

Eddie laughed, despite himself. The fact that Richie was picturing anything about him made him feel good. “I can happily do that too.”

“Huh.” Richie deliberately shifted his legs. 

Was Richie thinking about it now? Because Eddie was. He was thinking about climbing into Richie’s lap and riding him. Jesus. Eddie swallowed hard. “Nothing smart to say to that?”

Richie laughed a little. “Nope.”

Eddie let the silence settle around them. It was a very filled silence. Both of them knew what the other was thinking, but would they say something that egged this on. And who was going to?

Richie rubbed his hand on Eddie’s shoulder a little. “You wanna watch a movie?”

“Yeah.” Eddie tried not to let the disappointment come through his tone.

When they found something to watch, Eddie could hardly focus on the screen with the warm press of Richie against his side. Maybe he should ask about Connor more, that was supposed to be his mission. He sort of felt guilty trying to pry in Richie’s business. He felt even guiltier trying in the back of his mind to seduce him away from someone else. What was thinking? 

Eddie pulled himself away from Richie. “Bathroom.”

When he came back, he didn’t cuddle close again.

.

Even though it was annoying that Richie was interested in someone else, Eddie was trying to respect it. Still, Eddie was not looking forward to hanging out with Richie and his ex boyfriend that he was fucking. He could back out, right? That was acceptable. This was going to be weird. He found himself on Richie and Bev’s porch despite that fact. 

It was a group thing this time. Described as a party, in fact. Music was already muffled behind the front door. He knocked on the door before he could back out.

When Bev let him inside, Eddie’s eyes fell to the unfamiliar guy who was standing nearby. Blond hair pushed back into a faux hawk, tall (not as tall as Richie), skinny. He wasn't ... unattractive, but Eddie had seen better looking people. He was trying to figure out what Richie liked about him.

“Heya, Eddie.” Richie waved at him. “Connor this is Eddie Spaghetti, Spaghetti this is Connor.”

“Hey. Nice to meet you.” Eddie said politely. “I hate being called Spaghetti though, so you can forget you ever heard that.”

“Come on, Eddie!” Richie laughed.

Eddie rolled his eyes, but nudged Richie with his elbow.

“I feel like I already know you with how much Richie talks about you.” Connor said in a tone that was short, uneasy.

“Weird, because I barely know anything about you.” Eddie said, perhaps a little smugly.

Even though Eddie was trying to be cool, he was very much not feeling cool. He felt his gut twisting uneasily, even though Connor and Richie barely even sat next to each other, much less acted like a couple in any other way. In fact, some of Connor’s douchey friends were there too. Maybe it was just a party where two people who happened to be fucking each other were both inviting their friends to. Maybe it was serious. Either way, Eddie didn’t like it. And he was horrible at hiding the way he was feeling.

Ben talked to him. Even though he had no idea what Eddie was pissed about, he could tell. Eddie knew by the way that he was talking to him he could tell. Eddie made it clear, as nicely as he could manage because he couldn’t be rude to Ben, that he didn’t want to talk about it.

Eddie hadn’t realized how serious his feelings for Richie were until this had his stomach in knots, had him struggling to get drunk.

It really didn’t help that Connor was a grade-A asshole. He laughed at his own jokes (it was only cute when Richie did that), he was always finding a way to brag about something or top someone’s story. It was exhausting and embarrassing to watch. Eddie was _still_ trying to figure out what Richie liked about him.

“Nice resting bitch face.” Stan was with him in the kitchen, where he was pouring himself a shot.

“You too.” Eddie mumbled. “You were right, this guy’s the worst.”

“I fucking told you. And he’s still hanging around, which is  _ not _ good.”

“What can we do? If Richie didn’t learn that the guy was shitty before, what makes you think he’s going to learn now?” Eddie asked.

“I think he’s missing the entire point that he’s shitty because he knows that Connor liked him before and thinks that he’s never going to find someone else who likes him.”

Eddie was getting annoyed at Stan for analyzing Richie like that. If Stan cared so goddamn much why didn’t he talk to Richie about it? Why didn’t he just fucking date Richie. “This so fucking dramatic. People fuck their exes all the time. So what?”

Stan raised his eyebrows. “Jesus, okay. I was just voicing my concerns to someone who I thought gave a shit.”

“I do give a shit. I just don’t know what you want me to do about it.”

“Alright. Fair enough.” Stan looked like he was dying to say more, but wouldn’t.

Eddie rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for that shit either. He poured clear liquor into a shot glass.

“Hey, are people taking shots without me? What the fuck?” Richie appeared in the doorway.

Eddie eyed him, shoulder sagging a little just because he felt defeated by this entire situation. “Of course not, c’mon.” Eddie gestured for Richie to come over to the counter.

“Shots?” Connor came into the room too.

Eddie literally felt his eye twitch. “Sure, Connor, come on.” He said, turning to the bottle of vodka to pour all of them a shot.

“I’m good.” Stan said. He openly shot Connor a glare before he left the room.

Connor talked about how many shots he used to take when he was in college and how he could take two in a row, but he nearly gagged when he took the second one. Eddie tried very, very hard not to laugh when he made a face and a little retching noise.

“Take it easy, babe.” Richie said, rubbing a hand on his back.

Eddie fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Wanna smoke?” Richie asked toward Eddie.

Eddie nodded.

“That’s so bad for you.” Connor pointed out.

“I know, I know.” Richie brushed it off and turned toward the sliding glass doors that lead to the back patio.

“Wait.” 

Connor grabbed Richie by the front of his shirt when he turned around. Connor kissed Richie. He kissed him unnecessarily hard, with tongue and all. “Jesus, okay.” Richie said with a laugh when he pulled away.

Eddie was sure that he couldn’t hide the disgusted look on his face. He could feel himself giving the look, so he quickly turned to open the door. Richie and Bev had string lights along the wooden boards. It was muggy outside, the constricting kind of heat. The sounds of bugs were their soundtrack in the background.

Richie followed Eddie out the back onto the small patio. “What the flying fucking is going on in there?” Richie asked once the door was shut.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” Eddie said.

“I have no fucking clue.” Richie lit a cigarette, then passed it over to Eddie. 

Eddie took it without another word and watched as Richie lit his own cigarette. They sat in an uncomfortable silence. Something that was very unusual for them.

“I don’t like Connor.” Eddie said finally.

Richie let out a huff of a laugh. “Why?”

“He’s kind of a dick.” Eddie said.

“How so?” Richie asked.

“He’s a liar, first of all.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can just tell he’s making shit up.”

“He might be trying to show off to make you guys like him.” Richie said.

“He doesn’t have to show off. No one fucking cares.” Eddie said.

Richie couldn’t help laughing a little. “God, you’re just mean.”

“I’m not mean. I’m being honest.” Eddie said. “Also that kiss was awfully weird and possessive for someone who doesn’t want it to be serious.”

“Possessive?” Richie asked.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“It was weird.” Eddie said.

“Give him a break? For me?” Richie asked.

“Fine. I’m not happy about it though.”

Richie just grinned at him.

Eddie fought the urge to grin right back. Fuck. He didn't ever want to see Richie kissing anyone else ever again. He didn't want to think about the fact that he spent time with him, got in bed with him.

It might have been Eddie's own fault for sleeping with other guys, namely their mutual friends. And for not being able to make up his mind about whether he wanted to be serious about his feelings for Richie. But he knew now. He knew that he would have done anything to make sure that Richie was okay, that Richie was taken care of, protected. He would do anything to make Richie know how cared for he really was, that he didn't need to settle for assholes like that.

He watched as Richie blew smoke into the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from 'Do I Wanna Know?' by Arctic Monkeys
> 
> Ten points to you if you know where the lines ‘What the flying fuck is going on here?’ ‘I was going to ask you the same thing.’ came from.


	7. 6. I'll Be Waitin' For You If You Ever Wanna Be There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie is in deep shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: panic attacks, drugs (just weed), infidelity vibes again but not really

“Eddie? What are you looking for?”

A bang rang out as Eddie slammed the back of his head against the underside of his desk. “ _ Fuck _ !” He hissed. He rubbed the back of his head, sucking in another short breath.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you okay?” Adrian asked with wide eyes.

“No! No, I’m not o-fucking-kay! I’m having an asthma attack and I can’t fucking breathe and now I probably have a concussion! I can’t find my fucking inhaler!” Eddie was talking quickly, loudly, frantically opening his desk drawer to look for his inhaler.

It was a shit day. Okay it had been a shit few weeks. Take everything that was going on with Richie out of the equation (which was absolutely impossible for Eddie to do),  it seemed like he couldn’t catch a break at work, his mom was up to her usual smothering questions, and the guy Eddie had been occupying some of his time with stopped talking to him. And now he was going to die unable to breathe in his office rolly chair with Adrian just staring at him.

Adrian reached into his pocket.  “Here.” He was holding out his own inhaler for Eddie to use.

“I can’t - I -” Eddie exclaimed. “You put your mouth on there! What if we don’t use the same medicine?”

“Aren’t you having an asthma attack?”

“Yes!”

Adrian held out his inhaler, shaking it back and forth a little. Eddie grabbed it out of Adrian’s hand quickly. Eddie shook the inhaler, tried not to think about the fact that he was putting his mouth on a random coworker’s mouth. He put it to his mouth and took a puff.

“Better?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah.” He let out a heavy, but even, breath. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I made you slam your head into the desk.” Adrian took back his inhaler. “Are you okay now?”

“Head hurts.” Eddie admitted quietly.

“Come to my office. I’ve got some advil.” Adrian said.

Even though Eddie had his own supply of pills in the top desk drawer, he followed Adrian down the hallway. He went into Adrian’s office, trying not to be jealous of the fact that he had his own office. Eddie was stuck in the front office with Greta, not important enough to have his own private workspace. 

Once Adrian was sitting in his chair behind the desk with the door closed behind them, he spoke up. “Greta’s a bitch.”

“Okay.” Eddie said carefully.

“She took your inhaler.”

“What?”

“She took your inhaler off of your desk this morning. You used it when you came in this morning because you said the pollen percentage was high, then sat it down instead of putting it back in your pocket. Then when she leaned on your desk to ask you about the email that Josh sent this morning, she took it and put it in her desk drawer.”

“How do you even know all of that?” Eddied asked.

“I was using the copier and saw it go down.” Adrian explained.

“So you waited until  _ after _ I was having an asthma attack to tell me?” Eddie said, becoming more pissed off about all of this by the minute.

“Well - to be fair I really didn’t know what you were doing in the floor.” Adrian pointed out.

“But you  _ weren’t _ going to tell me.” Eddie repeated.

“I didn’t want to embarrass you.” Adrian said. “And also, I’m pretty sure you don’t like me.”

“I don’t  _ not _ like you.”

“But you don’t like me either.” Adrian said.

“I don’t know you!” Eddie exclaimed.

“Yes, but every time I try to talk to you, you shut me down immediately.”

“I’m defensive.”

“Is it because I talk to Greta? Because Greta and I aren’t friends.”

“Why does it matter?” Eddie asked.

“I guess it doesn’t.”

The conversation hadn’t helped anything. Really it had made things worse. Eddie pushed himself out of the chair across from Adrian and stormed out the office. He barreled into the front office that he shared with Greta. He slammed his hands down onto her desk. “You’re a bitch, Greta!”

She looked up, startled, but quickly gathered herself to say, “Wow, Eddie! Sounds like someone hates women.”

“Fuck you! I heard you call Janet a bitch this morning.”

Greta narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong? Asthma attack?”

“I could have fucking died. Fuck you.”

Then, another voice came from behind him. “Eddie! What do you think you’re doing?”

Eddie turned around and his boss was standing behind him with his arms crossed across his chest. 

And that was how Eddie got fired from his job.

.

Eddie sat in a booth in Lenny’s Diner across the street from Crestmark Insurance with his small box of belongings and a milkshake in front of him. The table was cool from the air conditioning. The gentle guitar from the speakers in the ceiling was floating into his brain. What the fuck was he going to do now?

“That is  _ not _ what I expected you to do or I wouldn’t have told you.” 

Eddie looked up. Adrian was sliding into the booth across from him and he was laughing.

“It’s not fucking funny.” Eddie spat.

“It’s about damn time you stood up for yourself. You let people walk all over you.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Sure, you yell at the copier, but when’s the last time you really stood up for something you’re passionate about in there?” Adrian asked.

“Never, because I don’t give a shit about that insurance company.” Eddie admitted.

Adrian gestured his hand in front of them. “There you go.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” Eddie admitted.

“I think you can do much better than something you don’t give two shits about though.” Adrian said.

“Do you care about Crestmark Insurance?” Eddie asked.

Adrian shrugged his shoulder. “I enjoy accounting enough to push through the bullshit.”

“I  _ hate _ working in billing." Eddie said. "I always feel bad because I have to talk to those people who can’t afford to pay for their insurance. I’m shocked I didn’t get fired before now because there’s no way I made us any money. I’m too soft.”

Adrian smiled. “There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to fuck people over.”

“Well, if you know anyone who’s hiring…”

“Actually, Blum’ming Greenhouse has a help wanted sign up all the time. My friend Patty’s mother owns it. I could put in a good word.” Adrian said.

“I know Patty.”

“Small world.”

“Small town.”

.

Despite the fact that he didn’t even own a record player, Eddie kept going back to the record shop. His mom had one that mostly collected dust. She used to listen to music sometimes, but it had been a long time. Now that he thought about it, maybe she’d stopped listening to music after his dad left them.

Sometimes Eddie would get very angry that his dad had left without a trace. Things would have been easier if he had stayed. It certainly would have made a difference financially. His mother would also have someone else to preoccupy her. Maybe she would be happier. Or maybe the problem was that she could never be happy. 

And more often, he couldn’t blame his dad for leaving. He was jealous. Angry that his dad hadn’t taken him with him. He felt guilty for thinking that way. But every time he came home, he felt like he was suffocating. His mother was more defensive and protective than ever with Eddie making his own decisions about going out and being around his friends, about his dating and sex life. If they could have lived under the same roof without the constant questions, the constant comments, Eddie would have been happy to stay there and help her out. Right now it was out of pure obligation and Eddie’s patients were running thinner and thinner. And now that he’d lost his job, he had no idea how she would react to that.

The pattern of going to talk to Richie during his lunch hour had been broken for awhile, but Eddie’s feet were dragging him there before he even realized it. The feelings that he had for Richie had dissipated some. He had forced them away, because they were both fucking other guys. But Richie was still the person he felt most comfortable with.  Despite all of the feelings that came and went, there was no denying that Richie was someone who always made him feel better though. And Eddie was spiraling. He felt like he was going to lose it.

He pushed open the door of Neibolt Street Records. The bell above the door rang. Piano notes played over the speakers and the singer said, 

_ But I was late for this, late for that, late for the love of my life // And when I die alone, when I die alone, when I die I'll be on time _

“Spaghetti!” Richie greeted him. “How is pound town's mot active resident? I haven’t gotten to talk to you because you’re ignoring me for your boyfriend.”

“I’m not in the mood.” Eddie grunted.

“Gees, what’s the occasion now?”

“I’m having a  _ shitty _ fucking day.” Eddie said, then added softly. “I wanted to talk to you because you … you usually make me feel better.”

“Oh.”

Richie was quiet, searching Eddie's face like he really did care. His expression was typically more telling than the words that came out of his mouth, but Eddie would take it.

“I … uh, just got fired.”

Richie raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s celebrate.”

“Celebrate? I just said I was  _ fired _ .”

“Fuck it. You hated that place.”

.

At 3 in the afternoon, Eddie was in Richie's living room, high from the shared joint with Richie and was working on getting drunk on champagne from the dollar store. They were watching bad reality tv, per Eddie’s request, but Richie was talking through a lot of it and Eddie was answering him right back. Eddie’s mind should have been racing about the fact that he was unemployed, but he felt content with Richie.

He couldn’t help the way that being alone with Richie made him question everything in his entire life, made him feel like he was in the right place and he’d never feel content with anyone else.  But there was still a problem with having that feeling. Wasn't there?

“How’s Connor?” Eddie asked.

“Okay.”

“Only okay?”

Richie sighed. “I’ve been thinking about how both you and Stan don't like him. And he is weirdly jealous all the time for someone who's not interested in anything aside from sex.”

“Jealous?”

“I guess he thinks that because I’m hanging out with other dudes that means that I’m fucking them. Which if the track record for this friend group is anything to go by … ” Richie shook his head.

Eddie tried to imagine how someone could be with Richie and think that he had bad intentions or treat him badly. It made Eddie angry.  “People can be friends without fucking each other.” Eddie said sharply.

“I know.” Richie sighed softly. He wasn't looking at Eddie while he spoke, gaze down toward his lap. " I always felt like … like he was ashamed to be with me. And now, he still doesn’t want to be exclusive, it makes me feel that way still. Like I’m not good enough.”

Eddie wanted to tell Richie that he  _ was  _ good enough . He wanted to say that if he was with Richie, he’d shout it from the rooftops if it made Richie feel good. But instead, Eddie shook his head, “Maybe it’s not that. Maybe he’s not ready to be open with his sexuality."

"Yeah, I don't think he's very open about it." Richie explained.

"Just because he’s not ready to be out, it doesn’t have anything to do with you.” Eddie said.

Despite the fact that he didn’t like Connor, that didn’t mean he couldn’t understand that part. Eddie _wanted_ to shout from the rooftops that he was gay, that he loved Richie, but he was trying to imagine what would happen if his mom found out.

“Maybe.” Richie said. “I know it isn’t going anywhere. I’m just ... too lonely to let it go.”

“You have friends. You don’t need a guy to make you feel better.” Eddie pointed out.

Richie was quiet, but he  didn’t seem nearly as upset about what he was saying as Eddie thought he might. Richie was often emotional about things like music and movies, crying at particularly sad or happy parts. He couldn’t understand how Richie wasn’t like that about a person that he once had feelings for, maybe still did . Sometimes Eddie felt like he was immersed in Richie’s depths, and other times he felt like he had hardly dipped a toe in. Richie was a mystery, honestly. The more time that Eddie spent with him, the more confused that he got. 

“How is your boyfriend?” Richie asked.

“He was literally never my boyfriend." Eddie said.  “ He was just … fun to have sex with.”

“Huh. That make you a little heartbreaker?”

“Puh-lease.” Eddie said, but the corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk. “If anything he’s the jerk. He abruptly stopped replying to my texts.”

“Want me to kick his ass?” Richie asked. “I’m not afraid to get punched in the face.”

“Nah. Thanks though.” Eddie was smiling genuinely now.

“What does Mrs. K say about your sexcipades?” Richie asked.

“Shut the fuck up.” Eddie rolled his eyes.

His mom was going to kill him. Forget being gay. Losing his job was going to lead to her going into some crying fit, worrying they can’t pay the bills. Eddie didn’t want to say anything to his mom, but he had done some snooping and knew that she would be fine without his paycheck if he was unemployed for a little while. Sometimes he wondered why his mom lied to him about finances. She was always making things into a bigger deal than necessary, and maybe that fell under the category too. Eddie had a feeling it was something else. He just wasn’t ready to admit that to himself.

* * *

Richie’s feelings for Eddie came in waves, sometimes gentle fondness that was the same kind he had for Bev or Mike. Other times it was intense, something that scared him because he’d never felt it before. He definitely didn’t feel this way about Connor. Not even before, when they were dating.  When Richie found himself alone with Eddie, he felt like there was no one else in the entire world but them. Eddie’s laugh was intoxicating. It warmed up Richie’s insides and gave him a better high than anything else he’d ever tried. Just listening to him rant about the way someone had unfairly been cut from a shitty reality show really made Richie feel warm.

Eddie had basically caught him staring though.

“You should let me put makeup on you sometime.” Richie said, as if that was a reasonable way to explain why he’d been staring. Or an indication that he’d been listening to Eddie at all.

“Do it then.”

“Right now?” Richie asked.

“Yeah. Why not?”

Eddie’s response surprised him. It was 5:30 PM. Richie and Eddie were in Richie’s room sitting on the bed, music playing softly in the background. Richie had some of his makeup spread out on the comforter, not much in comparison to what was inside his vanity drawers. Richie had a brush in his hand. He was grinning wildly, sitting so close to Eddie on the bed that he could feel the heat of his body.

He put a hand on Eddie’s cheek, then applied some of what was on the brush to the other.

“What the fuck is that?” Eddie asked.

“Highlighter. It’s to accentuate your cheekbones! And it’s glittery.” Richie used his thumb and pointed finger to twist Eddie’s head the other way. “Not that you need it. Your cheekbones are nice.”

“What does that even mean?” Eddie asked as Richie applied the shimmery stuff to the other side.

“It means you have a nice facial structure.” Richie told him.

Eddie looked like he was trying not to smile. “Let me put some on you.”

“Fine.”

Eddie grinned, taking Richie’s brush and attempting to do the same thing. He was going much lower on Richie’s face than he was supposed to, getting it in the scruff below his cheekbones.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Eds. It’s not blush.” Richie grabbed Eddie’s wrist, laughing loudly. “Stop that.”

“Okay, I want more stuff.” Eddie picked up one of the eyeshadow palettes that were spread on the comforter. It was one with shimmery earthy colors. Rusts, golds and browns. “This one.”

Richie took it from him and picked out the proper brush. 

“Okay, close your eyes.”

Eddie closed his eyes. Richie leaned in close with his brush and Eddie scrunched up his nose. 

“Stop it.” Richie giggled. His face was so close to Eddie’s. He could feel Eddie’s breath on him. “You have to gently close your eyes.”

Eddie relaxed. “Okay. Better?” 

He rested the ball of his hand against Eddie’s face to keep steady. He used the brush to paint on a layer of deep shimmering gold on Eddie’s eyelids.  Eddie’s eyes jerked a little, pupils moving behind his eyelids.

“Hold still. I’m not going to hurt you.” Richie said.

“Okay.”

Richie wanted to live right in this moment forever. Eddie’s eyelashes brushed against his highlighted cheeks, the crease between his brow non-existent, mouth parted just a little. It was like the whole world around them was still too.

Richie’s chest twisted with everything he wanted to say.

But what would he say if he was brave enough to open his mouth? He was in love with Eddie? Was that the truth? Right then, he felt like he was. He felt like nothing else mattered and he didn't want to be anywhere else.

Richie put another layer of the gold on his lids. He pulled his hands back. It almost hurt, Eddie was so beautiful.

“You better be glad you’re not a real drag queen. You’ve got thick ass eyebrows, dude. You’d have to glue those suckers down.” Richie said.

“Glue them down?” Eddie asked. His eyes popped open. “Wait, is that what you do to yours?”

Richie nodded.

“No fucking way.” Eddie said.

“Yeah.”

“What other weird shit do you do other than glue your eyebrows and tuck your dick?” Eddie asked.

Richie laughed loudly. “I don’t really - I mean, not -” 

“I know you tuck your dick. I’ve seen you in tight dresses.” Eddie said.

“It’s not nearly as dramatic as what other drag queens do, I’m sure. I just kinda push it back, wear two pairs of tights, and hope for the best.” Richie said.

“You don’t duck tape it?” Eddie asked.

“Fuck no.” Richie said with a laugh.

“I’m learning so much.” Eddie said.

“You want to learn how to put on lipstick?” Richie asked.

“How? I literally have no lips.” Eddie said.

“Me either.” Richie said.

“Okay. Teach me.”

Richie was leaning in close to Eddie, focused on his mouth this time. His heart was pounding in his chest. He swallowed hard as he held up the lipstick wand. “Um, the trick is to overdraw the middle part, not the sides.”

With the best technique that he knew, Richie applied the dark red to Eddie’s lips.

He pulled back when he was done, smiling triumphantly.

Eddie leaned around Richie to look in the vanity mirror. “Wow.” He said, tilting his head from side to side and admiring Richie’s work.

Richie watched him, feeling proud of himself.

“Let me put lipstick on you.” Eddie said suddenly.

“Okay.”

Richie had been in this position more times than he could count. A man with colorful eyelids and a painted on smile sitting close to him, hovering near his face and looking down at his lips. Richie had never felt like this though. His heart was pounding in his chest.

Eddie was trying to hold his hand right, ducked his head and tilted it.

Richie laughed at him.

“I can’t do it like this!” Eddie exclaimed, grinning widely.

They were both laughing together. Richie threw his head back a little as he laughed. Eddie was leaning into him, hand on his shoulder. Richie let himself fall back onto the mattress, arm over his forehead from laughing.

“Maybe if I try like this … ”

And all at once, Eddie was leaning over him, crowding into his personal space again. He had one leg planted firmly next to Richie's thigh, and the other followed. Richie’s heart was in his throat, mouth parted a little as he gazed up at Eddie. His dark lipstick was smeared, but his cheeks were still bright and shining as Eddie hovered over him.

He put the lipstick wand against Richie’s lips, and Richie wasn’t sure if he could ever put on makeup without feeling turned on ever again. It was so intimate, Eddie smearing the color across his lips and grinning down at him. “I fucked up.”

“Wow!” Richie laughed.

Eddie held the wand away from Richie, but stayed close to him. He was smiling down at Richie. “You look pretty.” Eddie said softly.

Richie’s stomach did a somersault. “Thanks.”

Then suddenly his mouth was on Richie’s. He kissed him deeply, breathing in deep with his nose. Richie’s hand that had been involuntarily hovering somewhere near Eddie’s head dropped to cup his neck. Eddie’s lips felt so perfect slotted against his own, even though lipstick was smearing between them.  Eddie swiped his tongue against Richie’s and a spike of heat stirred in Richie’s groin. Richie slid his hand down to spread out between Eddie’s shoulders, urge him closer. Eddie had dropped the lipstick wand. He was taking Richie’s other hand in his, linking their fingers and pressing his hand down against the mattress. 

Eddie sucked Richie’s bottom lip between his teeth, nipping lightly at it. Richie let out a shuddering breath against Eddie’s lips.

Then Eddie’s mouth was gone.

Neither of them said anything after, just looked at each other.

Eddie shifted closer, chest pressing against Richie’s and head tucking into Richie’s neck. Mouth open in soft wonder, Richie rubbed his hand along Eddie’s back. Their breathing slowed until it was synched, but Richie’s heart was still pounding loudly in his chest.

He turned his head, cheek nuzzling Eddie’s hair. He smelled so good. Like something sweet, maybe vanilla and something tangy. Richie wanted to stay this close to him forever.

That was until he felt Eddie's shoulders shaking. He heard Eddie suck in a shuddering breath, like he was trying to keep quiet.

"Eddie. Are you okay?" Richie asked frantically.

"No." Eddie's response came, voice thick with tears.

"Do you ... want to talk?" Richie asked. His hand rubbed up and down Eddie's back, soothing him best that he could.

"No."

"Okay." Richie said softly. He held Eddie close to him. "You're okay. I've got you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from: Hold Me by Fleetwood Mac
> 
> One of my favorite chapters!


	8. 7. Is There Life on Mars?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Eddie have some interesting revelations about their feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: typical drinking, mentions of drugs, smoking, and discussion of gender. also mild violence.

That kiss didn't leave Richie's mind. Richie had convinced himself that Eddie was feeling vulnerable and emotional, they were having fun. Richie understood that. Something along those lines was the whole reason why he was talking to Connor again. And despite the fact that Connor didn’t seem interested in putting a label on whatever they were doing, he felt a little guilty for kissing Eddie … for everything that was threatening to surface with Eddie again.

One one hand, Connor was great. He liked to get stoned and play video games together. He was honest, cool, and seemed like he was into Richie. He laughed at Richie’s jokes, he texted him stupid memes. Richie tended to let himself be enveloped in the good parts, diving in head first without thinking about whether or not he was going in too strongly. He liked the attention so much, he was only paying attention to Connor in return. Stan had called him out on that. And Richie’s response was that he was doing the same thing with Patty (now that he’d told her how he felt and she felt the same way) and it shut Stan up immediately. He wasn’t completely ignoring his friends, but he was obsessed with the idea that someone liked him.  He had to keep Connor interested because Richie could see the appeal in himself at a first glance - someone who was fun to laugh at, fun to go to the movies with, fun to have sex with. Fun, fun, fun. On the surface he was great. Once he started peeling back layers he was needy and sad and too much. He knew that. And when someone he was having fun with found it out, they immediately went the other direction. He had to keep putting in the effort, because Connor already knew that about him.

On the other hand, his friends (particularly Stan and Eddie) found Connor annoying, which should have been a red flag. Richie was tired of putting in the effort with someone who clearly wasn’t interested in being in a real relationship with him though. He needed to break things off before it got even more complicated. Richie needed to decide if he was really in this for Connor. He definitely cared about him. He also just liked the attention.

He swore that he was going to say something, find out Connor’s intentions before he made a decision, but after a particularly good round of sex, Richie forgot all about it. So maybe he was just as guilty of it just being about sex.

Richie decided that  one way he could take things a step further to decide on whether or not Connor cared about him was involving him more in his life … aka, inviting him to a drag show. It was something that was very important to Richie that he still hesitated to tell people about because not everyone understood the point. Not everyone understood expression, art, entertainment, fun! Knowing whether or not Connor understood or would at least  _ try _ would be a clear sign of how much he was willing to put in it for Richie in return.

Richie was sprawled out on the bed. He was laying with his head toward the end of the bed. The same bed he’d shared a kiss with Eddie on. His legs tangled with Connor’s, who was laying the other way. Richie poked his heel into Connor’s thigh. 

Connor laughed, swatting at his foot.

Richie turned over onto his stomach to rest his face in his hands. He was facing Connor now, watching as Connor looked at his phone. “So are you coming this Saturday or what?”

“I don’t know, Richie.” Connor said.

“It’ll be fun.”

Connor shrugged. “I just thought I was gonna have you to myself.”

Richie grinned. “You do pretty much any other day you want.”

“Unless you’re too busy with your friends.” Connor said.

“Why are you so jealous?” Richie grinned.

“I’m not jealous.” Connor didn’t even play along. He looked back at his phone. “It’s not that serious.”

“Hm.” Richie fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I’ll be waiting with a bated breath for your answer.”

“I think it’ll be weird being with you when you’re dressed up like a girl.” Connor said.

“It’s just for a night.” Richie said.

“But I like guys.”

Richie sighed. He pushed himself into a sitting position. “Just because I’m dressing in drag, doesn’t mean I want to be a woman.”

“Then why are you doing it?” Connor asked.

“A form of expression, being a rebel about gender norms, all that fun shit.” Richie explained with a grin.

Connor had his eyebrows scrunched up like he had no idea what Richie was talking about. So maybe Connor didn’t  _ get it _ nor was he attempting to.

“Maybe if you see in person, you’ll understand that it's just for fun.”

“Fine. I’ll come.”

.

So Connor was a little less than excited about coming to the drag show, which should have been Richie’s first warning that this idea was not only a disaster waiting to happen, but Connor didn’t really want to try. Richie was annoyed, disheartened, and feeling shitty by the time that Saturday came around. If Richie was being honest, what he really wanted to do was say fuck it, break things off with Connor, and just smoke and joint on the couch alone and watch Mama Mia.

The back room in Oasis where the drag queens could get ready for their performances was small, dark, and lit from only strings of lights and the bright ones around the vanity mirrors. Putting on Trashmouth usually made him feel so much better. It was an instant boost of serotonin right to the brain. Getting the energy to actually do so on a shitty day was a whole other story. Richie was still debating on whether or not he was performing, even though he had on his little tucking underwear.

He thought getting ready with Vince and Frank might pump him up for the night. They were laughing and giggling together, and Richie was trying to join in. Hell, he felt comfortable enough with them to stand naked aside from tiny little undies. That was more than he could say for half his one night stands. Shit, he should write that one down. 

Despite feeling more at home there, finding that different side of himself that Trashmouth typically brought out wasn’t coming easy. Richie stepped into his girdle and pulled it up, grunting dramatically. 

“Girl, stop acting like you’ve never done this before.” Vince said.

“I’m just not feeling it, dude. I’m fuckin’ depressed.” Richie admitted.

“Is Trashmouth depressed?” Frank asked, pointing a makeup brush over at him.

“Probably.” Richie said stubbornly.

Vince pulled Richie’s bra back and shot it across the room at him. “Not with titties like those.”

It did make Richie laugh. “I do have tits for days.” Richie snapped the push-up bra into place. He reached into the bra to push his chest up a little, making some cleavage. 

“What’s up with you?” Vince asked.

“I don’t have time to unpack all of that in less than two hours.” Richie said, examining his figure in the mirror.

“What’s bothering you  _ today _ ?” Vince emphasized.

Richie sighed, sitting down in the chair in front of the mirror. “Well hypothetically … say you’re seeing someone.”

“Define seeing someone.” Frank interrupted.

“Say, hypothetically of course, you’re fucking your ex.” Richie specified. 

“Oh shit.” Frank murmured, shaking his head and looking more closely into the mirror to keep working on his makeup.

“ _That_ is never a good start to a story.” Vince said, “Go on.”

“You’re fucking your ex, who doesn’t want to label the relationship. Yet, he’s jealous every time that you hang out with your other friends. He’s super interested when you hang out, but like doesn’t really text you unless he wants to fuck.” Richie explained, “Say all of that is going on, and you care about this person, so you’re holding out a little hope.”

“He’s just interested in fucking, clearly.” Frank said.

“Well … I had a feeling that was probably what was going on.” Richie said. “But like, so I was totally interested in someone else before my ex came swooping back in.”

Frank looked over at Richie with an eyebrow quirked.

“Before I texted my ex and asked if he was down to fuck.” Richie corrected himself.

“Mhm.” Frank said, leaning back into the mirror.

“I was interested in someone else who didn’t seem to be interested back so I fucked my ex. But now that I’m doing whatever this is with my ex, the other person kissed me - ”

“Kissed you?” Vince asked.

“Yeah, but they were emotional when they kissed me so maybe it was just an in the moment thing.” Richie explained. “Either way, should I be feeling guilty? Should I tell my ex and break things off with him?”

“This is entirely too complicated for me to try and decipher.” Frank said, even though he went on to give his advice. “But I say fuck your ex. He doesn’t seem interested in being your boyfriend. If you’re just fucking, you didn’t cheat, so who fucking cares and just move on with your life.”

“No, I would make sure your ex  _ isn’t _ interested. Because if you care about them still, you don’t want to hurt them. Be honest.” Vince said carefully.

“Fuck that.” Frank said.

Richie looked between the two of them. Frank was painting on red lips, his auburn wig next to him. Vince, on the other hand, was wearing a baby blue dress. If Richie didn’t know any better, he would think they were the embodiment of a devil and an angel on each of his shoulders.

“Well regardless, if you’re feeling like shit, express it with Trashmouth.” Vince said.

Richie groaned. “That’s so corny though.”

“You do it without thinking any other time.” Vince said.

Richie furrowed his brows. “I don’t know if that's true …”

“You tell the audience about your life, try to relate to them. It’s expressive.” Vince went on. “Then sometimes with your song choice … ”

“You’re just blowing smoke up my ass.” Richie said.

“A little.” Vince admitted. “But you need it.”

“Appreciate the honesty.” Richie sighed softly, leaning into the mirror to look at himself.

“Allow me.” Frank said, moving in behind Richie in the mirror. His face was covered in makeup already, a fiery blend of sunset colored eyeshadow, sparkling cheeks and bright red lips. “If you don’t care enough to perk yourself up and be part of the show tonight, let us know now. We don’t want someone half assing it and making it shitty.” He patted Richie’s back.

“Shit, okay.” Richie couldn’t help laughing at the harsher words. It was true. The other girls worked too hard to make the shows good for him to just go up there and flop. “Fine. I’m going to do it.”

“And …” Frank said.

“I’m  _ not _ going to half ass it.”

“And …”

“I’m doing it because I want to.”

“There you go.” Frank said, gesturing with one hand.

“I’m going to be dramatic as fuck about it, but I’m doing it.” Richie said.

“That’s the spirit.” Vince said, clapping a little.

.

With two layers of pantyhose, high heels, glittery eyeshadow, and a silk gown, Richie was feeling better. He draped the fluffy pale-blue coat over himself and the look was complete with a small shout out to Bowie’s suit color in the music video for ‘Life on Mars’. Richie couldn’t ignore and push away everything that he was struggling with, but he could use Trashmouth as a way to boost his confidence. He wasn’t planning a comedy routine tonight, instead just a dramatic lip synch. Even Trashmouth could have layers. She could have emotions too.

She stood on the small stage, back to the audience with her arms extended, coat draped low so her shoulders and straps of silk peaked out. When the piano started, arms dropped to her sides, and she looked over her shoulder to mouth the words,  _ “It's a God-awful small affair to the girl with the mousy hair.”  _ Trashmouth teased a hand in her outrageous blonde wig at the lyric, showing that she was no comparison to the girl in the story.

_ “But her mummy is yelling no and her daddy has told her to go.”  _ With each line, she’s tilting her head to either side of her shoulder. 

She turned around, used her hand as a lookout motion, as she explored the lyrics with her motions. _ “But her friend is nowhere to be seen.” _

Hands dropped to her sides as she moved across the stage. “ _ Now she walks through her sunken dream.” _

She took a seat on a stool that was placed in the off-center of the stage.  _ “To the seat with the clearest view. And she's hooked to the silver screen.” _

She looked out to the crowd, a sad kind of smile crossing the red painted lips. _ “But the film is a saddening bore.”  _ She crossed one leg over the other.  _ “For she's lived it ten times or more.”  _ She shook her head, using her hands to count.

_ “She could spit in the eyes of fools _

_ As they ask her to focus on…” _

She stood up from the stool, kicking it aside and letting it fall over on the stage.

Repeating unhealthy coping mechanisms weren’t going to get Richie anywhere. He needed to use the things that made him genuinely happy. Trashmouth. Life could be pretty shit and there was no way to escape it. Not drag, not romance (or sex), not coke. Reality was going to happen with or without him. And if he was honest and optimistic, there were more good things in life than bad if he just tried to look and stopped making things more complicated than necessary. 

He thought about how desperate and lonely he was feeling when he had tried to go home with Ben, who was also desperately lonely enough to try and sleep with someone who wasn’t the person he was crushing on either. While it was a sad thing in itself to feel unsure and scared to admit feelings to someone that there was  _ real _ potential with, it was comforting that night to know he wasn’t alone in feeling that way.

He wasn’t alone and it was proved time and time again. He had an amazing friend like Bev, who was always there to cheer him up. He had someone like Mike, who cared enough to have his friends over for Wednesday dinners. He had Stan, who'd been his friend for his entire life.  Stan and Patty were longing from afar too and thinking it was impossible when it wasn’t. They were in the audience, hands linked on top of the table. Richie often thought there was no chance that he could have it for himself, that gave him some hope.

“ _ Is there life on Mars?” _

He remembered Bill saying it was hard to have feelings, which seemed ironic coming from him. Maybe he was struggling with something too. Maybe there was a reason he was sleeping with people, always making the kinds of decisions he was. Richie didn’t think he was a bad person. Maybe he was lonely too. 

It had been dramatic to feel as if Bill and Eddie had slept together just to hurt his feelings, dramatic not to feel good enough for Eddie, and it was shitty of him to use Connor as a way to get over his feelings for Eddie.  It was easy to get caught up in Eddie, in those doe eyes and dimples. He missed him. He missed their lunches. He missed making excuses to see Eddie. He missed Eddie’s attention. That kiss had felt so _ real _ . That moment felt so intimate, there was no way Eddie hadn’t felt it too, right? Richie clutched at his chest dramatically, then out stretched his arm as he pretended to wail out the lyrics.

It had been a bad idea to bring Connor back into his life when he knew that Connor wasn’t good for him. Connor had liked him once though. There was a chance that Connor had changed, he kept telling himself, but he knew. Connor made him feel stupid for having feelings. Things hadn’t ever ended on good terms with him. It was repetitive, self-sabotaging behavior. It wasn’t worth the attention. He was realizing that. He’d gotten himself entangled in something that he could have easily put a stop to already and he should.

_ “'Cause I wrote it ten times or more” _

It was easier to be someone else. Vince had been right, it was easier to express things this way. He didn’t have to be so honest with himself. It was easy to get caught up in the confidence and happiness that it gave him to be Trashmouth. But he wasn’t using it as a way to ignore everything, he was using it to cope and explore the way he was feeling. He was aware he was doing it too. That was new. That was healthier.

“ _ Oh man, wonder if he'll ever know  
_ _ He's in the best selling show  
_ _ Is there life on Mars? _ ”

Somehow, this was healing something in him and opening up other wounds at the same time. He felt euphoric, like nothing could stop him, even though he was sad inside. Maybe it was dangerous. Maybe it was powerful. His eyes were stinging with the emotion of it all.

.

After his performance, Richie was being pulled in lots of directions as per usual, drinks and lines and jokes, despite the tone he’d set for himself. He was too enveloped in how good it felt to be there in Oasis - the adrenaline, the confidence, it all was still making him feel good. It was easily making him forget every revelation he'd just had on stage. He talked to strangers, but mostly just his friends. He had nearly forgotten about the bad energy that he was getting from Connor’s reluctance to come.

Connor had come with his own friends, and his friends were mingling with Richie's a little. Richie put his arm over Connor’s shoulders, but Connor shrugged out of his gesture. Richie was starting to feel like this was the tipping point. He had to get himself out of this situation before he got hurt … and Connor got hurt. But Connor wasn’t practically pretending like Richie wasn’t there.

When he found the right moment, Richie pulled Connor away from the group a little. “What’s your problem?” Richie finally whispered close to Connor’s ear.

“Nothing.” Connor said, jerking away from Richie.

“We can leave if you want to.” Richie said quietly, trying to pull Connor away from the table a little  _ more _ so his friends didn’t have to overhear what was quickly turning into an extremely awkward conversation. “I need to talk to you anyway.”

Connor pulled his hand away from Richie’s. “I don’t think that’s a good idea either.”

“Why?” Richie asked.

“This is just weird.” Connor said.

“Wait - what’s weird?” Richie asked.

“You - dressed like this.” Connor gestured to Richie’s outfit. “I can’t fuck a guy who’s dressed like a girl. It’s fucking weird, Richie.” 

Richie made an exasperated noise. “Just because I have fun performing in drag, that doesn’t mean that I want you to fuck me while I’m wearing a dress.”

“Sorry for getting the wrong message.” Connor said.

“I was just trying to show you something that was important to me.” Richie explained.

“You don’t even look like those other ones. You still look like a dude in a dress.”

Richie stared at Connor for a moment. He felt like his guts had completely dropped out of his body. He knew that everyone didn’t get drag. Especially his drag. And honestly, it shouldn’t have been such a big deal that someone he was trying to break things off with thought his hobby was weird, but it  _ was _ a big deal. It sucked because that was something that Richie felt  _ more _ confident doing. He’d gotten stared at and judged by strangers and assholes, but he’d never had someone who he cared about say anything like that.

“It isn’t just about looking like a woman - ”

“My friends think you’re a joke.” Connor interrupted him.

Richie felt like the room was spinning out from under him. His ears were pounding with his heartbeat and his eyes were stinging with tears. Of course, he had heard Connor make fun of other people, and it always made Richie feel uncomfortable because that wasn't something he really approved of. But Richie guessed that he thought that Connor cared enough about him that he was exempt from that. Apparently not.

"I'm not - I'm not a joke." Richie said quietly.

"It's just fucking weird." Connor repeated.

“Are you talking shit to my friend?”

Richie turned around quickly. Eddie was standing behind him, arms crossed and mouth pulled into a thin line.

“I don’t think it’s any of your business.” Connor said.

“Well, you’re saying it loud enough for everyone to fucking hear.” Eddie gestured with one hand around him in a fury. “It’s fucking shitty and I don’t want to hear it.”

There were many times when Richie saw Eddie get frustrated, angry, annoyed, ranting about work or his mom. Eddie was as spitfire of a person on a good day. There was something about this that was different. This was a glimpse of something that Richie hadn't ever witnessed. 

“Please, don’t - ” Richie started toward Eddie.

“Don’t what?” Eddie asked loudly.

“This is just too much. He’s not even worth it.” Richie murmured.

“I’m not worth it?” Connor asked just as loudly. “I guess that’s why you’re making desperate attempts to make this more than just friends with benefits.”

“Clearly I am desperate if I thought I could make it work with you again.” Richie said more firmly.

“You’re needy and obsessed with me. It’s too much.” Connor said. “But then you turn around and constantly text other guys, hang out with other guys. The way you two look at each other is enough to prove to me that you’re just in this for the attention and you don’t really have feelings for me.”

Richie was caught off guard by that.

“And suddenly, the person who never shuts up is silent.” Connor said.

“I’m warning you right now, you’re the one who needs to shut the fuck up.” Eddie said.

“Or what?” Connor asked. “You can have him. Like I said, he’s needy as fuck. He’s obsessed with fucking and has a tight ass though.”

“What the fuck, Connor?” Richie asked. Richie felt gross. He felt wronged. He felt humiliated. 

“Don’t dress like a little bitch if you don’t want to be treated like it.” Connor said.

Eddie punched Connor.  Eddie fucking cold clocked him right onto the floor. Eddie looked down at him, then back up at Richie.

Richie's mouth was open in surprise, eyes wide and, "What the fuck, Eddie?" was the only thing he could say.

Eddie shook his head and then walked past the crowd of people who had stopped to look. 

Richie took in a deep breath. He looked down at Connor, debating on checking on him. He quickly decided not to,  stepped past Connor and followed Eddie.

“Kaspbrak - ” Don was saying, getting ready to kick him out. Eddie had his hands held up and was going out the door.

Richie was behind him. “Eddie, what the fuck was that?” Richie called after him.

“You don’t deserve to be talked to like that. What the  _ fuck _ was _that_?” Eddie asked, turning around quickly.

Richie pushed the strands of his wig away from his face. “I don’t need someone to come fucking charging in and fight my battles for me.”

“I'm sorry! But I couldn’t stand there and listen to that shit. God, I want to punch him in the face the minute that I met him.” Eddie said. “You’re so much fucking better than that.”

Richie crossed his arms, brows creased together and trying to be upset. There was a part of him that was eating this whole situation up. Was it fucked up that he felt good being some kind of damsel in distress in his silk dress and blonde wig? He felt like he was the hot girl in some clique high school movie. The truth was, he was feeling pretty good about the fact that anyone had stood up for him like that, especially Eddie.

And this made his decision to be done with Connor very, very clear.

“I don’t need you punching guys for me.” Richie said, despite the smile that was threatening to form over his painted on features.

“Yeah, well, I don’t need assholes like that hanging out at my favorite bar and fucking my friends.” Eddie said.

Richie reached into his bra to pull out a pack of cigarettes. He put one between his pink lips, lit it and handed it over to Eddie.  Without hesitating, Eddie took it, lipstick stained and all. Richie lit another for himself. He took a long drag and leaned against the building. 

“You’ve got some fucked up anger issues.” Richie said. “That was … actually kinda hot.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up.”

Richie laughed softly. “Just don’t take out your aggressions on the guys that I’m fucking. I’m pretty sure I still could’ve talked him into it tonight.”

“You’re disgusting. Why would you want - ”

Richie was laughing again. 

“Oh. You’re kidding.”

“Yeah, Eds. I’m kidding.” 

Richie looked over at Eddie, unable to wipe the smile off his face as he took a drag from the cigarette. Eddie caught his gaze and gave him a little smile.

"I don't want to be a woman." Richie said quickly.

"I know that." Eddie said.

"Apparently that concept it way beyond some people's comprehension." Richie said.

"Yeah well, you don't need someone like that in your life."

"I know. I guess I just ... I know it's weird that I look like this. A six foot hairy dude with a dress on." Richie said, gesturing down to himself. "And part of me doesn't give a shit and just embraces the mixture of masculine and feminine , but another part of me feels silly and self conscious."

"You shouldn't though. First of all, gender is a social construct anyway. And second of all, it's drag. It's self expression and exaggerating things. The gender lines are blurred and always have been when it comes to drag." Eddie said seamlessly.

"I know. I know." Richie appreciated that he could surround himself with people who understood all of that. It was a relief after what had just happened. Maybe he just needed to hear it for the reconfirmation in his very delicate self conscious brain.

“Don’t let anyone tell you shit.” Eddie said suddenly. “You looked … beautiful up there. I knew the song, but I’d never really understood what it meant until I saw you up there.”

Richie shook his head. “It was just a song - ”

“It wasn’t just a song. You were making a statement like you always do.” Eddie said firmly.

Richie had never really looked at himself in that way. Sure, he felt good when he did drag. He liked the attention and he liked being able to express himself in that way. He rarely saw himself in the full potential that he had. He was learning from himself, but hearing it out loud was really reassuring. Eddie was saying all of the right things to him.

“That means a lot.” Richie said.

“Good. You deserve to feel good.”

Richie caught Eddie’s gaze, big doe eyes looking at him with such sincerity that it hurt. Richie opened his mouth, wanted to say how good Eddie made him feel, how he felt about him.

“Eddie, what the fuck? People are saying you punched a guy.” Mike has appeared from around the side of the building with a group of their friends.

“Yup.” Eddie said with a pop to the p.

“What happened?” Ben asked.

“Eddie was defending my honor.” Richie said, cigarette went between his lips and hands clasped together over his heart.

“Did you seriously punch that prick?” Stan asked.

“I did.” Eddie said.

“Fuck, dude.” Stan was grinning widely.

“I don’t usually condone violence, but nice.” Mike said.

“Are you guys okay?” Patty asked.

“We’re fine.” Eddie said.

“You guys wanna head to my place and drink?” Richie asked.

“Dude, it’s late. I’m out.” Mike said.

“Yeah, I can’t do it.” Stan said.

Richie was still running off of the adrenaline of being so upset, and then seeing Eddie punch the person who was making him feel that way. Aside from that, it seemed like Richie was always up later that everyone else, wanted to keep the party going for as long as he possibly could.  “Oh come on. You guys are pussies.” Richie said.

“I’ll come.” Eddie said.

* * *

In the yellow light of Richie’s living room, Eddie turned the bottle of wine up to his lips. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Richie was next to him, makeup half cleaned off and part of his hair pulled back in a little scrunchie, seriously fucked up from being under the wig cap. Richie was in cut off sweats and a t-shirt that had Pickle Rick on it. Eddie should not have wanted him so badly.

He knew that it was fucked up for him to decide that he wanted Richie while he was in some relationship. He knew it was fucked up to punch the said guy Richie was seeing and then come over for what he  _ wanted _ to turn into sex. It was crazy.

Eddie had not talked about the bedroom kiss with Richie. It was barely a taste of what Eddie really wanted. In the moment, it felt so perfect. But that kiss just left Eddie craving more, like he always was when it came to Richie. Why shouldn’t he allow himself to indulge in something that he really wanted? For Connor to point out that Richie looked at Eddie the same way, it was almost like something went off in Eddie’s head that made everything that was happening between them make sense. Eddie wasn’t making it up. He wasn’t making up how comfortable he felt in Richie’s arms, how easy their conversation flowed, the sparks that flew when they kissed, the way that Richie knew his music.

Eddie passed the bottle over to Richie. He took a swig and Eddie watched his tongue swipe over his top lip. He knew how it felt to be pressed close to Richie’s side on this couch. He knew what it was like to give him a quick kiss on a whim, pressed up against his soft stomach. He knew what it was like to kiss Richie sloppy and desperate.

Eddie took the bottle back and turned it up to his lips. He started picking at the label. “Sorry I punched your boyfriend.”

“He wasn’t my boyfriend anyway, as he pointed out multiple times.” Richie said bitterly.

Eddie was feeling out the situation. Richie was clearly upset, even if he was trying not to act like he was. It didn’t matter how right they were together. This wasn’t the time. Not yet. “Fuck him for that. You deserve better.” 

“Thanks.” Richie said, leaning back on the couch and looking unconvinced. 

_ I could give you better _ . Eddie swallowed hard. What was he thinking? How could he give Richie any better when he was in this very unstable part of his life? He was fucking around all the time, lost his job, was miserable at home, and couldn’t even stand up for himself with his mom. 

But the thing was, somehow Eddie knew that Richie didn’t judge him for any of that. He knew that Richie was capable of an unconditional kind of love. Not that he was convinced that Richie was in love with him or anything like that, but he knew how big Richie’s heart was. Richie wouldn’t care what Eddie had going on.

“Maybe continuing to drink all night after all this Connor shit wasn’t a good call.” Eddie said.

“No, maybe not.” Richie said. “I just … didn’t want to be alone.”

Eddie wondered why he didn’t just make Bev stay up with him then. Maybe Richie was pushing for a rebound. If they did anything tonight, maybe that’s all it would be for Richie. He wanted to think Richie wasn’t like that, but maybe Eddie was just romanticizing him.

He put the bottle down on the coffee table. He moved closer to Richie, put his hand on Richie’s. “You don’t have to be.”

“Would you just maybe hold me? Just for a little bit?” Richie asked quietly.

“Of course.”

“Let’s go to my room.” Richie said. “If that’s okay. More room to lay together.”

Eddie found himself laying in Richie’s bed in his underwear and one of Richie’s t-shirts. It was far more intimate than he would have imagined. Richie was facing him, but he was curled, his head was close to Eddie’s chest. Eddie had his arms around Richie, one hand rubbing gently against his back.

“Ugh what a night.” Richie mumbled. “I did make like $300 in tips though.”

“Really?” Eddie asked.

“Oh yeah. Easy.” Richie said.

“You’re really good. You deserve it.” Eddie said.

Richie ducked his head even more, rubbing his cheek against Eddie’s chest a little. “I know you wouldn’t just say shit to blow smoke up my ass. So thanks. For everything.”

“You’re right. I would not.” Eddie laughed.

They didn’t talk much more. They also didn’t kiss, didn’t fool around. They just kept each other company for the night. It felt good being completely surrounded by Richie, being able to be there for him. Eddie wouldn’t have changed anything that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richie's drag performance and title of the chapter: "Life on Mars?" by David Bowie


	9. 8. This Is Not The Sky That You Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beach chapter. But first, has Eddie really reached his limit?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: canon-typical Sonia Kaspbrak, homophobia, a brief conversation about flesh eating bacteria

Standing in the kitchen listening to a long-winded lecture from his mother before he went to his new job at the Blum’s greenhouse was Eddie’s new morning routine. He made his coffee, his bagel, and ignored his mother’s desperate begging for him not to go out in the sun all day and play in filth. Despite the fact that she had cried about how they wouldn’t be able to survive if Eddie didn’t have a job, it sure seemed like she didn’t want him to have this one.

Eddie had been working with Patty and her mom at Blum’ming Greenhouse for just a few weeks and he absolutely loved it. He liked getting his hands dirty. He liked being out in the sun. He was starting to memorize all of the names of the flowers. He liked arranging them in the pots for customers. Sure he had to apply sunscreen every day and he was still adjusting to the heat, but overall, the good outweighed the bad.

Part of Eddie thought that his mom must have hated seeing him happy.

Eddie’s anger with his mother had been building for quite some time. He took it out on other situations, ones that perhaps deserved a more rational response (such as road rage, yelling furiously at any inconvenience he faced, calling his previous coworker a bitch and then getting fired …  _ and _ punching Richie’s ex boyfriend in the face). It was time to remove the thing that was causing him the most deep-rooted anger. The anger was so deep that it took one little thing for Eddie to completely lose his shit.

“If you weren’t out drinking the devil’s liquor all the time, maybe you wouldn’t be so dehydrated and frail and I wouldn’t have to spend all day worrying about you working out in the sun, during the heat of the day - ”

“I can’t do this anymore! I can’t  _ stand it _ anymore.” Eddie yelled.

His mom looked up, startled by his words. “Eddie what are you talking about?”

“I’m not happy here.” Eddie said firmly.

“I take care of you. Of course you’re happy.”

“Okay - okay, but I’m not.” He said frantically. His voice wavered, but began to raise the more that he spoke. “You … you think that you’re protecting me, but really, you’re just isolating me and making me paranoid. Mom, I don’t … I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me. I don’t even think I’m lactose intolerant. I … I think that I only have anxiety  _ because _ I live here.”

His mom made an exasperated noise. “Eddie, where’s all this even coming from? You’ve been getting ideas from Bill again, haven’t you? He lives a certain kind of lifestyle. He doesn’t even know what he wants.”

“People are bisexual, mom.” Eddie said firmly.

“People are bisexual when they’re in high school and are afraid to come out of the closet.” She had a lot meaner things than  _ that  _ to say about it too. Eddie could hear his heart beating in his ears, rage burning within his chest. She couldn’t just talk about his friends like that and get away with it. Not when he was standing there, wishing he could be open like them.

“Mom, I’m gay!”

She stood up, face scrunched up in anger. “You have no right trying to humiliate me like this.”

“I’m not trying to, but I just … I can’t keep pretending that I’m not who I am.”

“Sex doesn’t define a person.”

“ _ No _ , but it is part of who I am.” Eddie said. “And you know what  _ does _ define a person? The things that they like to do. I like to plant flowers. I like to run. I want to get a dog. I like to go out with my friends! But you don’t want me to do those things.”

“Because it’s  _ dangerous _ , Eddie.”

“Fuck danger. I’m done listening to your lies.” Eddie spat.

His mother started crying. “You used to be so sweet, Eddie.”

“Meek. I used to be so  _ meek _ . I let you and everyone else walk all over me.” Eddie shook his head. “I can’t live like this, mom. I’m sorry. I - I have to go.”

“Well what am I supposed to  _ do _ , Eddie?”

“Figure it out.” Eddie turned around and left the room. He grabbed a change of clothes and ignored all of his mother’s pleading with him. All of the “you need me”, “you’re delicate”. All the crocodile tears. He slammed the door behind him. Eddie called Ben and asked if he could stay over until he figured something else out.

.

Later that week when the reality of what he had done was sinking in, Eddie found himself crossing through the doors of Neibolt Street Records to tell Richie what he’d done. He hadn’t shared with anyone aside from Ben that he had finally moved out, because he hadn’t been sure that he could face the reality of what he’d done. He was starting to get  _ scared _ . He had some money saved, but he needed to keep saving until he was able to find somewhere to really live. He felt guilty mooching off of Ben. Even though Ben swore it was okay, even offered Eddie the second bedroom for the blowup mattress and said he could stay for as long as he wanted.

“I moved out of my mom’s house.” The words should have come out excitedly, but instead it sounded a little bit miserable. 

“Oh shit.” Richie leaned on the counter, offering Eddie a smile. He was looking at Eddie with an intensity that Eddie rarely witnessed with him. “I’m proud of you.”

The response made Eddie’s heart feel a little bit lighter. “Thanks.”

Richie stood back upright. He glanced toward the door, out at the sunny afternoon. “Let’s go to the beach.” Richie said.

“What?”

“It’s where I go when I want to think.”

They went by Richie’s house. He let Eddie borrow some too-big swim trunks. Then Richie was standing there in a ridiculous pink button-up with avocados on it, unbuttoned and no shirt under it. Eddie knew that his eyes were zoning in on the dusting of hair that spread all the way from Richie’s chest down below his board shorts. He was wearing birkenstocks (with no ugly socks). Eddie felt like he was going to die from heart palpitations for multiple reasons.

Richie’s car was an old green Subaru Outback with a shitton of stickers on the back of it. When Richie started it, there was a distinct sound that made Eddie uneasy.

“I made us a playlist.” Richie said.

“Did you now?” Eddie asked.

Richie nodded, plugging in his phone to the aux cord. The sounds of Richie’s playlist filled the car, easing some of Eddie’s nerves. He glanced over at Richie to see him replacing his glasses with a pair of red heart-shaped sunglasses. Eddie smiled.

“Is this another lesson in music?” Eddie asked.

“Eddie, every time you’re with me it’s a lesson in music.” Richie grinned as he pressed play.

“Hm.” Eddie made a gentle noise.

The sounds of a gentle guitar with an easy beat that did remind Eddie of a sandy beach and a palm tree filled the air between them. He was surprised to hear a woman’s voice spill out of the speakers.  _ Wake up, you know I feel ok // Go to sleep, it's just another day // I know, someday I'll find it, where I, I least expect it. _

“A/C kinda sucks.” Richie said after a moment, rolling his window down.

Eddie rolled down his window too, letting the sun beat down on him before he even put on sunscreen. The air did feel good, even if it was a little too hot.

Richie cranked up the radio. The chorus spilled loudly into the air and out the car windows

“I guess the stereo works!” Eddie said loudly.

Richie laughed.

Eddie was quiet for a moment, intently listening to the music. Not that he’d ever let Richie know that he was memorizing the lyrics and riff of the guitar. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Richie’s thumbs hitting the steering wheel to the beat. The silence between them was comfortable. It was the kind that made you feel at ease, not pressured to talk. 

But Eddie had too much swirling around in his mind to stay quiet for long.

“My mom used to try and scare me out of going to the beach by saying that I could get flesh-eating bacteria.” Eddie said suddenly. “Did you know there were cases of that in Tampa Bay?”

“Jesus Christ. Isn’t that like … super rare?” Richie asked.

“Not if you have an open wound … or a compromised immune system.” 

When he was younger, Eddie used to be afraid that a shark was going to get him if he went into the water. He had rationally talked himself out of that fear, since a lightning strike was more likely to happen. But suddenly, all that he could think of was a nurse shark sucking on his leg with it’s weird flat little mouth and eating his skin. He shuttered.

“My mom tries to scare me out of doing everything.” Eddie said.

Richie didn’t say anything. He kept his mouth drawn tight.

“Maybe she’s right though. I - I can’t live out on my own. I don’t have enough money. I - ”

“Eddie.” Richie cut him off. “She’s  _ not _ right. You can do this. You’re smart with money. All you have to do is make a tighter budget, find yourself a roommate, and you’ll be okay.”

“You’re right. I’m being - I’m being crazy.”

“You’re not being crazy. Your feelings are totally valid.” Richie said. “None of us are gonna let you figure it out alone if you ask for help.”

Eddie glanced over at Richie, feeling warm again. While Richie could make the world’s most distasteful joke, he also knew when not to. He knew the right things to say to Eddie. “Thanks, Richie.”

“Of course.”

Silence settled around them again, just as the song changed to something different. A gentle piano came over the speakers. The familiar, deep voice of Joni Mitchelle filled the car. 

_ I'm going to take you to my special place _ _   
_ _ It's a place that you like no one else I know might appreciate _ _   
_ _ don't go there with anyone, but you're a special case for my special place _

Eddie’s brows furrowed, having never heard the song before. “Wait. What’s this song?” Eddie asked.

“My Secret Place. It’s from Chalk Mark in a Rain Storm.” Richie said.

“I haven’t heard this before.” Eddie said.

“So apparently, a lot of people didn’t get into Joni’s 80’s music because she was making a lot of political remarks on that album particularly, but … this song’s not like that.”

“How do you know that?” Eddie asked.

“I work in a record store, dude.” Richie said. “And I might have checked out some more of her music when you said you liked her. Wanted to see if I could find something you never heard. I was dead on.” Richie looked a little smug.

Eddie settled back in his seat, smiling a little. Richie was thinking about him while he crafted this playlist. Eddie was trying not to look too far into it. He didn’t want to get let down. It was Richie’s job to find out what music people liked.

“Wait - is that Peter Gabriel?” Eddie asked. “What the hell?”

“I know. Billy Idol and Tom Petty are also on this album.” Richie said. “It’s interesting. I really liked this song though. That’s why I put it on here.”

“Yeah, it’s … nice.” Eddie was looking at his lap, fingers tracing the edge of the shorts he was wearing. “You’re um, good at your job, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Richie said with a chuckle. When Eddie looked back over at him, he was frowning a little. “It’s a bummer that my boss wants to sell the building.” 

“Wait - your boss wants to sell?” Eddie asked. “It’s the only record shop nearby, and it’s a cool place. It needs some updates, but it’s great.”

“I keep telling him it would be cool if we combined and made it like a … a cool little book and vinyl store. Bill would fucking love that.” Richie laughed a little again. “I don’t know if that’s the answer, but something to change it up a little, but no.” Richie said with a sigh. “Fuck I told him if he fixed the fucking A/C it would improve business. He won’t.”

“Sounds like he just doesn’t care.” Eddie said.

“I keep wondering what his deal is. Like why open a record shop if you don’t give a shit about music or anything.”

“Business.” Eddie shrugged.

“He wants to keep it open until someone buys? I don’t know. It’s like … my whole life will revolve around other people’s decisions at that point. I don’t want to see the place go either. I wish I could just buy the place from him.” Richie said.

“You’d want to?” Eddie asked.

“Absolutely.”

* * *

Richie felt a wave of heat that was not from the Florida sun wash over him when Eddie took his shirt off in the parking lot. He had seen Eddie’s arms, toned and muscles flexed when he crossed his arms in those tank tops he wore sometimes. He’d seen glimpses of Eddie’s flat little belly, and the hair that started under his belly button and led down below his waistband. He wasn’t anticipating the fact that Eddie had fucking washboard abs.

_ What the fuck? _

And he made Richie’s obnoxious swim trunks with little pineapples all over them look incredibly cute. 

God. Richie felt like a fucking beached whale in comparison to Eddie’s physique. He shrugged out of his button-up anyway, trying not to think too hard about what his body was like in comparison.

When they got out to the beach, Eddie put on so much sunscreen, his cheeks were pasty with it. Watching Eddie apply it all over his tight little body had been dangerous.

“Want me to get your back?” Richie dared ask.

“Yeah. Please.” Eddie said.

“Okay.” Richie took the sunscreen bottle from Eddie’s hands. He squeezed some onto his hands and got behind Eddie.  _ Jesus _ . He’d noticed the way that Eddie was shaped before, but the slight dip in his back where his waist was and his hips flared out just a little. He wasn’t trying to look, but Eddie’s ass was right there, so close to him that he noticed how perfectly shaped it was under those pineapples. Under Richie’s trunks. It was intimate, almost, that Eddie was wearing his clothes. Richie put his hands on Eddie’s shoulders, lathering him with a layer of sunscreen that was up to Eddie standards. Palms rubbed over the freckled skin along his upper back. 

Hands moved down his back. He heard Eddie’s breath catch in his throat when his hands covered his lower back. Richie was really trying not to remember how it felt when Eddie pressed close to him in that tiny bathroom at Stan’s house last year.

“Finished.” Richie announced.

“Thanks.” Eddie turned around, snatching the sunscreen. “Your turn.”

“I don’t need - ”

“Richie, you’re pastier than I am.” Eddie said.

Eddie had a fair point.

“Hold out your hands.” Richie did, and Eddie gave him a generous amount of sunscreen. “Don’t forget your face. How shitty is it going to be to put on makeup with burnt skin? Hold still.”

Richie closed his eyes, swallowing hard as Eddie’s hands rubbed all over his back. It felt good. It felt incredibly good to be touched gently, carefully. Eddie made sure he wasn’t missing a spot. Eddie gave a shit about him enough to cover him up with sunscreen. It almost made Richie want to cry. It also made Richie half-hard in his swimming trunks and he made sure to walk in front of Eddie.

Loud waves crashed on the shore and gulls cried. The sun made the ocean sparkle over bright blue waters, much cleaner than what Eddie thought it was going to be like, which he voiced as they spread out their towels. They spent some time quietly spread out on their towels under Richie’s bright, striped umbrella. Eddie was on his stomach, elbows digging into the sand. Richie was quiet, head turned to watch him.

The blazing sun is bearing down on Eddie’s freckled shoulders and the straight bridge of his nose. Richie wished that he was the sun so he could gently touch him, or so that he could kiss his own permanent marks on Eddie’s skin. 

Richie’s eyes trail down to the subtle mounds of his ass, where his hands had been so close. The skin of his lower back felt permanently burned into his palms. Richie doesn’t know how long he was staring when Eddie rolled over. He caught Richie’s gaze. “Were you looking at my ass?”

Richie was caught. Oh my god, he was caught. If there was any chance that his slight boner was still lingering, it was gone now, because he felt panicked.

“What else was I supposed to look at? You’ve got these stupid little pineapples all over it.” Richie said.

“Stupid? These are yours!” Eddie exclaimed.

It made Richie grin so hard that his cheeks hurt.

When he got too hot, Richie got one of the bottles of water from their backpack. When he still felt too hot, he got up to get into the salty water. He threw down his sunglasses on the towel.

“Where are you going?” Eddie asked.

“Getting in the water!” Richie called.

Eddie watched him as he walked away.

Richie stuck his toes in the wave that washed up over the sand. He was distracted for a moment by the gentle waves rolling in, before he stepped further in, to his ankle then his calf.

“Hey.”

Richie turned around and Eddie was standing just a few feet behind him. “Eddie! You’re in the water!”

Eddie moved closer to him. He took Richie’s hand in his. “Let’s go further.”

Waves were splashing up their chests. Eddie’s hand grabbed onto Richie’s arm beneath the surface. They let the waves crash against them, making them half-way bob in the water. Laughter rang out over the splashing of the surf. Eddie was brighter than the blazing Florida sun like this. He was clinging onto Richie, hands slippery underneath the surface, hair damp and salty, breathless from laughing.

Richie was determined not to do anything that might complicate his friendship with Eddie. He would stay quiet about the feelings that were bursting to get free today. Richie could hold Eddie like this, the two of them bobbing in the water. Eddie’s arms were resting on Richie’s shoulders, legs hoisted around Richie’s waist. Richie’s arm was against Eddie’s lower back, hand curled around his side. They were giggling weakly, waves crashing against Richie’s back and threatening to splash over their heads.

Their mouths were hovering near each other’s. Eddie tilted his head up and pressed a soft, salty kiss against his lips. “What was that for?” Richie said softly.

Eddie was bright red. Before he could answer a wave crashed hard against Richie, knocking him off balance and under the water. Eddie went with him. They clung onto each other. They surfaced, laughing and gave up on swimming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from: 'Baby Blue' by Scanners
> 
> Songs on the playlist:  
> 'Feeling OK' by Best Coast  
> 'My Secret Place' by Joni Mitchell


	10. 9. I Knew You'd Set A Fire In Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In one night, everything can change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: explicit sexual content, sex under the influence

Richie: hey. Trashmouth is coming to a bar near you. Saturday at 11pm   
Eddie: I miss her. I’ll be there.   
Richie: she misses you too.

.

Eddie had really taken charge of himself and his sexuality over the last year. He was rebelling against everything that his mom expected of him, down to his new job at the greenhouse that had his fingernails dirty most of the time. It felt good to try new things. It felt good to do whatever he wanted.

And Eddie  _ wanted _ Richie. Eddie was on a mission to get Trashmouth in bed. 

The tension between them had become more clear to Eddie. The way that Richie looked at him as Connor, of all people, had pointed out. He probably wouldn’t have mentioned Richie looking at his ass while they were at the beach if Connor hadn’t brought up the way that Richie looked at him.  _ Thanks Connor! You were good for something, at least _ . Eddie liked the way that he found Richie looking at him that entire day on the beach.

The surge of confidence he was feeling was egged on by the compliments he received from Ben when he walked out of his room (what used to be the guest room, Ben asked him to be his permanent roommate) in a purple crop top and tight jeans. When he showed up at Oasis, Bev and Mike complimented him too. It felt fucking good. Sure, his friends had to be nice to him, but this felt genuine. He flirted a little at the bar ordering his drink, even got it paid for. He danced close to guys on the floor. He had no eyes for any of them though. He had his mind on one person.

By the time the drag show started, Eddie was standing up front with tips in his hands for all the queens. He was splurging, sue him. But he did save his biggest tip for Trashmouth.

Trashmouth had on bright red glasses and a big blonde wig. Hairy legs were covered with knee-high stockings and a garter. Fucking hell. She looked absolutely heavenly, donning a red faux fur coat over a tight black lacy thing. Was she wearing lingerie? Eddie felt his heart leaping in his throat. If Eddie’s mind hadn’t already been made up, it was now. 

Underneath all that was a smug-looking Richie.

“Hi, friends.” The crowd cheered. “I recently downloaded Grindr again. Forgot how awkward those encounters can be.” She made a face. “So, you get into the car with some guy who looked half-way decent on the app and still does in the semi-darkness of the Walmart parking lot.” Trashmouth dramatically flipped her hair over one shoulder. “Hey what’s up bigdaddy69, what’s your real name?” She put on a voice for that one.

Then a deeper voice. “John.” 

“Oh cool.” She was back to her regular voice, “Do you … um, do you wanna like go some place? Like what are you into?”

Back to the deeper voice she said, “I’m down for anything. Just don’t touch my ass. Don’t kiss me either or I’ll kick your ass. I’m straight.”

She shook her head, “Boy, do they miss out not coming to the gay bar to see me dressed like a woman then, am I fucking right?” The crowd gave a laugh as she was striking a pose, hand on her hip and sticking it out. Trashmouth grinned. “Gets me all hot and bothered to get threatened like that.”

She shook her head, playing with the cord attached to the mic a little. “Actually, you know, it’s hard to get off when all I can think about is how fucked this person’s life is that they’re sneaking onto Grindr to fuck. How shitty is it to still have to feel like you have to pretend to be straight? Sometimes, I think about how easily that could have been me if I didn’t have the support from my friends and such a fucking cool place like this to hang out at.” The crowd wasn’t sure how to take her words. Eddie was interested.

“What? Is it too hard to believe that people could think I’m straight?” She grinned a little at the reluctant chuckles. “I know. I brought the mood down. Imagine my boner that night when I’m getting pounded by some sad straight guy in the back of his big rig.” There was laughter again. 

She laughed a little too, before taking in a deep breath. “I know I confuse people because I’m six foot two and don’t always want to top. Then I put on a dress, I’m automatically a baby slutty little bottom. Just have a conversation with a person. Or at least read their fucking grindr profile before you meet up with them. Bottom. Bitch. Doesn’t matter if I show up in this or a flannel shirt.” She grinned. “It doesn’t matter what you look like or what you’re wearing. Stop the assumptions so we can all get fucking laid. Seriously. Fuck stereotypes. I’m going to lip synch to a song by Queen.”

* * *

Richie was running off the adrenaline that came with having actually said something he felt like he needed to, but still made people laugh and have fun with his routine. He was getting compliments on how relatable he was! Imagine. He was having a fucking blast out on the dancefloor with Mike and Bev.

“Just couldn’t say no to Whitney Houston, could you, Mikey?” Richie asked, moving in close to his ear.

“No, I couldn’t.” Mike grinned. He held onto Richie’s hands, swinging them with the beat. Bev joined them and the three of them had their hands linked, spinning in a circle, laughing their heads off. They only knocked it off when Mike almost fell. He stumbled back into Bill, who had made his way onto the floor too.

“Shit, I’m sorry - Oh! Hey, you.” Mike said, grabbing onto Bill’s shoulder for support.

Bill smiled. “C-c-came to round u-up Richie. Get that woman a shot.”

Mike snorted.

Richie and Bev were still dancing, Bev looking too graceful for the club music and Richie looking a bit like a noodle despite his graceful attire. Mike and Bill gathered them up, bringing them back to the table. Just in time, Ben returned to the table, blush visible even in the colorful lights as he walked with Tiffany Foxx, who was holding a serving plate full of shots. She sat it down on their table and winked at Ben.

“She really likes me.” Ben whispered to Richie, who laughed loudly.

“Oh buddy.” Richie said. “Watch out or you’re going to be leaving here with the wrong redhead.” He leaned in close to Ben to say.

“Shut up.” Ben said, even more embarrassed.

“To Richie Trashmouth Tozier.” Stan said, when the shots were distributed.

“No - No, stop.” Richie said. “To you guys, for being cool as hell and actually coming to support me. Just thanks for being fucking awesome.”

“I always have a lot of fun.” Ben said.

“Yeah, me too. You don’t have to thank us.” Mike said.

The group dissipated, leaving Richie and Eddie alone. Richie let out a breath and moved to the chair closer to Eddie. Their day at the beach was still fresh in his mind, even though it had been some time since he’d been able to get any time with Eddie. His mind was whirling with what that kiss meant for them, even though he was too scared to ask again.

Richie caught Eddie looking at him. Chin in his palm, face propped up.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” Richie said finally.

“Sorry. I just -”

“Not every day you see a big guy in a dress?” Richie asked.

“No.” Eddie laughed gently. He struggled to find the words he was looking for to describe how warm he felt inside when he saw Richie smiling like that. “I just - I don't think I’ve seen you look so happy.”

Richie looked a little taken aback by his words, leaning back in his chair even. “You’re one to talk, Mr. Sad Eyes.”

“I don’t have sad eyes. I’m having fun.”

“Whatever you  _ say _ .” Richie egged him on.

“Yes, whatever I say.” Eddie’s somehow closer to Richie. Somehow he’s closer, and still completely out of reach.

“Bossy.” Richie said.

“So what if I am?” Eddie spat back.

“It suits you.” Richie said.

Eddie scrunched up his brows. “Thanks.” He searched Richie’s face for a moment longer. “I think making a statement is a good look for you instead of making cheap laughs off of dick jokes.”

“Wow. That’s rude.” Richie was laughing though.

“No, I mean, I like those too. It was just a nice change of pace.” Eddie clarified.

“Oh, backward compliment.” Richie said.

“Kind of.” Eddie said.

“Well, I wasn’t fishing for a compliment. I just think you’re cute.”

“That’s - that’s not really - ” Eddie’s blush was visible, even in the low light from the club. “I’m not fucking cute. I’m a grown man.”

“You are so defensive. It’s adorable.”

“Oh, I’ll show you adorable.” Eddie was red in the face.

“Yeah?” Richie dared him.

Before Eddie could say anything else, Mike and Bill returned to the table looking extremely caught up in each other. Richie would have been more curious about if Bill was trying to fuck every person in the friend group if he hadn’t just been getting somewhere himself with Eddie.

Eddie leaned into him, and Richie felt his gut flip when Eddie grabbed his arm. He whispered against Richie’s ear, “Hey, Richie, let’s dance.”

Richie followed Eddie out to the dance floor, their hands clasped. They swayed together a little. 

“I’m a shit dancer.” Richie said.

Eddie grinned, head tilting up. “You do okay when you’re on stage.”

Richie laughed a little. “That’s different.”

“I … I don’t care how good you are. I just wanted to be alone with you.” Eddie said.

Richie’s heart fluttered. “Oh really? Alone with all these people?”

Eddie laughed a little. “It’s easier to be alone out here.” He leaned up on his toes to talk into Richie’s ear. His hot breath made Richie’s blood boil. When he pulled back, Eddie reached for both of Richie’s hands, swinging them playfully. “You look hot in that outfit.”

“Are you just sexualizing drag? Because drag’s art, not sex.” Richie leaned down to talk into Eddie’s ear.

Eddie’s arms draped over Richie’s shoulders, keeping him close. “I’m not fucking sexualizing drag. Just be glad I’m sexualizing you and shut the fuck up.” Eddie’s ears were red.

“I’m just  _ saying _ .” Richie grinned. “I mean, it obviously can be sexy, but if you’ve got a weird kink - ”

“I think it’s sexy that you’ve been confident tonight.” Eddie interrupted. “I mean, I knew you had it in you, but there’s something incredibly sexy about you not ruining it with self deprecating humor.”

“Well, the night is still young.” Richie said.

“Shut up and dance with me.”

He turned, then pulled Richie closer to him. He swayed and danced against him, pulling Richie’s hands down to his hips. Richie took in a deep breath, following Eddie’s lead. Eddie tipped his head back against Richie’s shoulder, and Richie could see the smile on his lips.

Eddie turned around and put his hands back on Richie’s shoulders. Richie was flushed to his core. His hands gripped Eddie’s bare waist. “A boner in a dress is not ideal.” Richie leaned in to whisper against Eddie’s ear.

Eddie laughed loudly, eyes sparkling. “Really? Already?”

Richie squeezed Eddie’s hips, pulling him closer. “Yeah, I’m fucking dying here. You’re hot as hell.”

“And you just came to this conclusion tonight?” Eddie asked.

“Fuck no.” Richie could feel the hot of Eddie’s cheek pressed against his chin as he leaned in to talk. “I’ve been fucking drooling over you since I saw you for the first time at Bev’s gallery.”

“Oh.”

Richie leaned back a little, gaze on Eddie’s. He was more drunk on Eddie than anything else. A pink tongue darted out over dry lips. Eddie’s hands were on him, pulling him in and kissing him hard. Richie licked into Eddie’s mouth, tongue tasting the alcohol on his breath and the hint of sweet from the cranberry juice or just Eddie. Eddie. Eddie. His brain was on overdrive, fingers digging into Eddie’s sides so he could feel the searing hot skin against his own.

“Fuck.” Richie mumbled against Eddie’s lips. “I want you.”

Eddie pulled away and tugged on Richie’s hand. Weaving through the dancefloor and past the crowds, Eddie pulled Richie into the bathroom. Eddie was on him before he could do anything else, had him crowded up against the bathroom wall and kissing him like he couldn’t ever do it again. Eddie pushed his hands up Richie’s thighs and under the soft fabric of Richie’s silk slip. Hands rested right under the line of Richie’s underwear, perfectly brushing the curve of his ass. Richie had never been aroused by wearing feminine clothes necessarily, but at this point, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to think of it another way.

“Eddie.” Richie murmured, fingers curling into Eddie’s ams.

“Get us a fucking uber.” Eddie said. “This bathroom is disgusting.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Okay.” Richie swallowed hard. “My phone’s with Bev.”

“Go fucking get it.”

“Yes, sir.” Richie said, using one hand to salute.

Eddie grinned at him, Richie’s lipstick smeared on his lips.

“Oh baby, you’ve got makeup all over you.” Richie laughed softly. Though there was something stirring deep inside him that was  _ glad _ . Eddie was claimed. His for the night.

“Yeah, yours is fucked.” Eddie reached a hand up, thumb tracing under Richie’s bottom lip. Richie tongue darted out to brush against Eddie’s thumb, unable to help himself. Eddie pushed his thumb up toward Richie’s mouth. Lips wrapped around it, tongue tracing and twirling. Eddie pushed it further in, baring down against Richie’s tongue. “You look so good like this.” Eddie said. Richie moaned, sucking around his finger. “And it gets you to shut up.” Eddie was pushing in until Richie was gagging, drooling.

Eddie pulled his hand back, leaving Richie panting on the spot.

“Go get your phone and let’s get the fuck out of here.”

.

Streetlights passed by in streaks of light. The cool air coming from the vents in the front of the car were a welcomed relief coming from the heat. The soft hum of music from the speakers gave Richie something to focus on other than the tingling feeling in his body from his head to toes. His gut was lurching with nerves and possibly from the alcohol. Richie couldn’t believe his luck. He was feeling giddy, despite the nerves. His hand crawled up Eddie’s leg. Eddie’s hand curled around Richie’s intertwining their fingers and giving him a pointed look. It made Richie’s half chub twitch.

The humid heat surrounded them when the Uber dropped them off. Eddie’s hands were all over him again, kissing him like he’d never be able to kiss again. Richie was pinned against the brick of his apartment building, Eddie’s hands pinning his wrists. Eddie smiled at him. He gave a much gentler kiss against his cheek before letting him go.

Richie fumbled with the key to his apartment. Bev hadn’t made it back yet, but Richie wasn’t about to be caught in the living room, sure he would never ever live it down. He gently tugged Eddie’s wrist, pulling him down the hallway toward his room.

“Wait here.” Richie said, letting Eddie into his room. Richie unzipped and kicked the go go boots aside. He went to the bathroom, searching for one of Bev’s makeup wipes to clean off his face. Obviously Eddie didn’t mind that he was wearing makeup, but still. It was smeared and his face was sweaty. He wiped most of it off, unpinned his wig and hair net, then put his glasses back on.

He hurried back down the hall, into his room and shut the door behind him. Eddie was on his feet, pushing Richie up against the door to kiss him. Richie gripped Eddie’s hips, steering him against the desk. Eddie sat on the edge of the desk, Richie slotting between wide-spread thighs. He ran his hands along Eddie’s sides. Hot hands ran up the skin of Eddie’s thighs next.

Eddie groaned into his mouth. He grabbed Richie by the arms, hoping down from the desk and steered him toward the bed. Eddie pulled his own shirt over his head, neatly folding it over Richie’s desk chair. Richie watched with fondness and fascination. He was a little embarrassed by the state of his room, but Eddie didn’t seem to mind. He was stripping out of his shorts too, then placing them neatly with his shirt.

Richie’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull when he was faced with Eddie’s cute little bare bottom. That fleshy peach of a thing looked just as he’d imagined, but better. And fuck, Eddie went commando.

“Commando for Eduardo.” Richie blurted out.

Eddie turned to look at him, grinning a little sheepishly. 

Out of courtesy for if Bev came home, he turned on his speaker and played music in the background. Their playlist.

“Your turn.” Eddie looked expectantly at Richie. He was standing there with a hand on his hip, hip jutted out, and cock hard. How was Richie supposed to say no to that?

Richie swallowed hard, trying not to feel self conscious. He quickly stood up so he could pull the dress over his head. He felt his heart pounding as he stood there in the one-piece, clinging shapewear. Once he peeled it off, he’d just be Richie, who wasn’t nearly as sexy as his drag alter ego.

Eddie closed the space between them. Hands were on the back of Richie’s top, unzipping. He let it drop, swallowed hard and felt flushed when Eddie’s fingers traced his sides, gripping his love handles. Glasses askew and in tight little compression shorts, Richie leaned to scoop Eddie into his lap.

“Nice undies.” Eddie said, close to his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah.” Richie grinned. He put his hands on Eddie’s ass, squeezing the mounds of flesh. Oh man.

Eddie pushed back into the feeling, thighs tight, spread wide across the broad width of Richie. Hips jerked and Eddie moaned against his mouth. Richie drug his hands from Eddie’s ass to those thighs. Fingers dug into the flesh when Eddie licked into his mouth. Richie couldn’t do anything except moan against his mouth and brush his tongue against Eddie’s. Hips rolled and grinded against each other.

Eddie shifted off and reached between them to pull Richie’s underwear down. Richie let out a huff of breath, feeling pretty relieved to be rid of the compression shorts.

“Holy shit.” Eddie said.

“What?” Richie asked, feeling alarmed and embarrassed.

“You weren’t lying. You do have a big dick.” Eddie said.

Richie laughed loudly, falling back against the mattress. Eddie climbed back in his lap, laughing too. He leaned over Richie, grinning down at him. He brought a hand to brush some of Richie’s hair away from his forehead. “You look so … gorgeous.” Eddie said.

“Stop.” Richie mumbled. He knew there were red marks from the seams and hems of his undergarments pressed into his skin. He was sweaty, hair messy. Not to mention just … not up to typical standards of attractiveness just on body type alone. 

“You said you knew I wouldn’t blow smoke up your ass.” Eddie said.

Richie closed his eyes, letting out a huff of a laugh. “Eddie.”

“Fine, but are we gonna have that conversation you talked so much about tonight?” Eddie asked.

“I said I was a bottom bitch in front of the entire crowd tonight.” Richie said.

“I didn’t want to make assumptions based on your outfit.” Eddie smiled.

Richie grinned back at him. “It’s totally okay.”

“Well, once you commented on thinking I was a power bottom so … ” Eddie laughed softly, cheeks a bright shade of pink.

“I want you to fuck me.” Richie said firmly.

Eddie looked at him intently, eyes wide and blown out from lust, face red down to his chest. He nodded, leaned in to kiss Richie again. He kissed against his jaw, scraped his teeth against Richie’s neck. “I wanna fuck you hard into this mattress.” Eddie murmured against Richie’s ear.

“Please do it. Fuck.” Richie rocked his hips up against Eddie’s.

Eddie wrapped his hand around his own cock, dragging the head against Richie’s skin. He was dripping, leaving a sticky string of precum against Richie’s stomach. It was fucking hot.

“Lube?” Eddie asked.

“Top drawer.”

Eddie climbed off of Richie to retrieve it. “Spread those thighs out for me.” Eddie instructed.

Richie did what he was told. He took in a deep breath, trying not to feel insecure about his gut and about being covered in dark hair from his chest down to his groin. Eddie was perfect. Even the subtle tan line against his upper thigh was cute.

But Eddie didn’t seem to mind that Richie wasn’t nearly as perfect. He leaned over Richie and kissed him, then trailed his mouth down between his pecs and then his hand squeezed handfuls of them, making Richie groan. He leaned back up to grab a pillow to tuck under Richie’s hips.

“So good.” Eddie's hands pushed Richie’s thighs further apart.

Richie flushed brightly, but felt  _ good _ . “I can be good when there’s a nice fat cock of a reward.”

Eddie looked a little embarrassed this time, head ducked a little but he was grinning. He spread lube over his fingers. “Doesn’t take much to sway you, huh?” Eddie asked.

“You don’t have to work too hard to buck this bronco, cowboy.” Richie said.

Eddie snorted, grinning at Richie. “Jesus, you ever shut up?”

“Wait until it’s your dick that’s inside me. Then I really won’t shut up.”

“You promise?”

“Oh yeah.”

Richie’s hips tilted up eagerly when Eddie traced a finger over his hole. “Easy, cowboy.” Eddie teased. Eddie pushed his finger past the tight ring of resistance. Richie hummed out a soft noise of pleasure. Eddie slowly pumped his finger. “You like that?” Eddie asked.

“Mhm.”

Eddie pulled back and pressed a second finger alongside it. Richie moaned, back arched. Eddie leaned down and licked Richie’s cock, mouthing over the head and tasting Richie’s precum. He moaned softly, fingers thrusting slowly into Richie as he did. Richie was sure he’d died and somehow ended up in his perverted version of heaven.

Eddie pumped three fingers inside of Richie with eager force. Richie’s thighs were shaking from the effort of spreading them further. Eddie’s free hand soothed one of them. The contrast to the way he was finger fucking him.

“You’re already like this and you haven’t had my cock yet.” Eddie murmured.

“I want it.” Richie panted.

“I know you do.” Eddie slowly pulled his fingers back, leaving Richie feeling empty and desperate.

After rolling on a condom, Eddie lined his cock up with Richie’s hole, head teasing the sensitive rim. Richie’s eyelids fluttered, head tilting back as he braced himself for Eddie pushing inside. They moaned in unison when Eddie did. “Feel good?” Eddie asked.

It felt incredible. Overwhelming. Stretched to his limits. Entirely engulfed in Eddie. “Fuck.” His voice comes out breathless and high.

“You okay, baby?” Eddie asked. He was threading his fingers through Richie’s hair so softly. It was nearly as overwhelming.

“Yeah.” Richie breathed out.

Eddie kissed Richie gently. 

Then Richie could feel every inch and slow drag inside of him. It felt good. He wanted this bad. He rolled his hips to meet each of Eddie’s thrusts. Hands gripped Eddie’s back, fingers digging into the skin. “Feels good.” Richie panted into Eddie’s mouth before he kissed him sloppily.

“Yeah, it feels fucking good. Fuck.” Eddie murmured against his lips. Richie couldn’t believe that he was doing this to Eddie, making him sound desperate. Nails dig into his thigh, branding his skin.  _ Eddie was here _ . Eddie could have all he wanted. Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.

“You can fuck me harder.”

“Oh, is this not doing it for you?” Eddie asked. He leaned over and grinned down at Richie.

“It’s fucking good I’m just - ah!” Richie gasped out at a hard thrust. “Just telling you what I like.”

“Mm, what do you like?” Eddie asked. He thrust in harder again, making Richie moan out.

“You. I like you, Eddie.” Richie cried. Eddie sat the pace more quickly, hard and quick thrusts rocked the bed frame. “Fuck. Don’t stop. You feel so good.”

He came with Eddie pressed deep inside of him, tears spilling out of the corner of his eyes, and Eddie gasping into his mouth until he bit down on Richie’s lip and came too.

-

Richie felt like shit when he woke up. His mouth was dry and his head was sloshing his brain around. He wiped his eye with the back of his hand. The warmth of Eddie’s body next to him was hot, but comforting. Slowly, Richie turned over so he could see him. Eddie was tucked under the sheet, a gentle inhale and exhale raising his chest. His lashes dark and long against his cheek. Richie smiled. He didn’t want this to end. 

He got out of bed, trying to be careful with his movements not to wake him. He went to the bathroom to piss and splash some water on his face. He fucking ached, but it felt good to know he’d be reminded of what happened after Eddie was gone.

He wondered what was going to happen when Eddie woke up.

He tiptoed back into the room, quiet but still clumsy as he climbed back into the bed. Eddie made a cute little sleepy noise as he shifted. He opened his eyes, finding Richie’s gaze. “Were you watching me sleep?” Eddie mumbled, pulling the sheet up tighter around him.

“Yep.”

“Weirdo.” Eddie groaned, closing his eyes. His hand felt for Richie’s arm, clinging onto it.

“Is hungover Eds a little cuddler?” Richie asked.

Eddie practically growled under his breath. “C’mere, dickhead.”

“Are you not a morning person?” Richie asked as he scooched in closer to Eddie.

“No. Turn around.”

Richie moved onto his side, back facing Eddie. Arms clung to him, Eddie’s chest pressed tight against his back. Eddie tucked his arm around to grab a handful of Richie’s chest. Richie let out a contented sigh.

The hum of the air conditioner in the window filled the room as they lied next to each other, basking in the pleasant feeling of the morning after rather than an awkward one. Richie was  _ giggling _ . There was no other word for it.

“What?” Eddie asked.

“Got to score with a hot dude. Can’t a guy be giddy?” Richie asked.

Eddie smiled, eyes still closed. “Score with a hot dude? What are you, a fucking sorority girl?”

“I think you know I’m all dick.”

“In more ways than one.”

Richie turned his head to kiss Eddie once, twice. 

“Richie, I have morning breath.” Eddie said. 

“I don’t care.”

Then Eddie was licking into his mouth again, thumb pressed tight against Richie’s chin. Richie moaned softly at the way Eddie claimed him, with such a simple gesture. Richie licked against Eddie’s tongue before sucking on it. Eddie groaned, rolling his hips against Richie’s ass, cock hard and pressing against him.

“Wanna go again?” Richie mumbled.

“Didn’t I fuck you hard enough the first time?” Eddie asked, voice low and breathy.

“Yes, but I just can’t help it when I’ve got a hottie like you in my bed.” Richie grinned against Eddie’s lips. 

Eddie pushed his leg between Richie’s.

Richie reached over to the bedside table for lube and a condom. He pushed them into Eddie’s hands, and Eddie rolled on the condom and covered his dick with lube. Richie felt the blunt head of Eddie’s cock pushing into where he was sensitive and used. He whined softly, hips pressing back to be filled more.

Eddie’s arm curled around his stomach, hand gripping his skin as his hips rolled. Richie moaned out as he was stretched at a different angle than the night before. He whimpered at a sharp thrust. His hand curled around Eddie’s wrist, the other gripped the sheets.

The thrusts were so firm they slowly rolled him onto his stomach. Richie was flat, arm under his chin. Eddie spread his legs out further as he rolled his hips, thrusting harder into Richie and grunting. Richie felt fucked out, used, sated. He could’ve just laid there and took it forever.

Eddie leaned over his back, kissed his shoulder. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Feels so good.” 

Eddie pushed his hand into the hair at the nape of Richie’s neck. He kissed his neck. He ground his hips into Richie, moaning against his skin. “I’m gonna cum.” Eddie murmured into his skin, gasping as he did.

.

They ended up sleeping a little more, tangled up in the blankets and sweaty. It was kinda gross, but kinda sweet. The next time that Eddie woke up, he asked if he could take a shower. Richie tried not to be alarmed by the state of he and Bev’s bathroom, but told Eddie he was welcome to go in anyway.

He returned to Richie’s room moments later.

“What’s wrong?” Richie asked.

“The shower is clogged.” Eddie said.

“Yeah.” Richie rubbed his hands over his eyes. He got up, pulling on a pair of boxers off of the floor. He moved down the hall, Eddie behind him. Richie moved to grab the plunger from beside the toilet. “Sometimes you have to - ” He used the plunger to try unclogging the bathtub. It did the trick.

Eddie made a face. “No. Nope. That’s disgusting.”

Richie put the plunger back in its place. “What?”

“You just used the same thing that’s used in a toilet in your shower!” Eddie exclaimed.

Richie hadn’t really considered that it was gross for him to be doing until that moment. “Well, the shower gets cleaned.”

“Does your plunger?”

“I mean … ”

“My point exactly.”

“You're not sitting down in the shower.” Richie said.

Eddie groaned.

“Will it make you feel better if I get in with you?” Richie asked.

“Maybe …” Eddie mumbled.

They showered together, which was more intimate than sex, in Richie opinion. Eddie was shy and a little weird at first, but he relaxed once Richie offered to wash his back and gave him a little mini massage.

The shower left Richie feeling more refreshed, but it didn’t help him from feeling a little let-down when Eddie finally left.

.

“Someone had fun last night.” Bev said over dinner.

“Yeah.” Richie said with a chuckle. He looked down at his plate, spinning his fork around in the noodles that he’d made for them.

“Did you finally have a big romantic reveal of your feelings?” Bev asked.

“Fuck no.”

Bev sighed. “Richie.”

“What? I couldn’t find the right time with Eddie’s dick in my ass.” Richie said before taking a bit of his noodles.

Bev rolled her eyes.

Richie looked up again, catching the end of the eye roll. “What? It’s hard to make yourself vulnerable like that. Fucking is just fucking. Feelings getting involved? That’s when it’s difficult.”

“I think you’re making this so much harder on yourself than necessary.” Bev said.

It was Richie’s turn to roll his eyes. He picked at his food again. “Everything was just happening. I admit that I was thinking with my dick instead of my brain.” He sighed. “And besides, it’s not like I can be sure that it was more than just a fuck to him.”

“Oh come on.” Bev said.

“What?” Richie shook his head. “You should have seen how disastrous the morning after was.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad.” Bev suggested. “I heard you guys fucking again.”

“Sorry.” Richie grinned sheepishly. “He was disgusted by the bathroom.”

“So am I and I live here.” Bev said.

Richie laughed a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from 'Wake Me' by Bleachers


	11. 10. Don't Leave Me Tongue Tied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are always more complicated than they seem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot of dialogue in this chapter.

A downpour that started in the early afternoon. The storm lasted into the late evening. With the temperature dropping below seventy, Richie had an excuse to wear his leather jacket and feel cool when he went to Stan’s. Laughter rang out from an open window and music played softly in the background as Richie rapped on the door.

“Come in!”

With that, Richie was immersed in the warmth of the low-lit dining room, a string of lights around the room. The room was crowded with his friends, Eddie at one head of the table. His cheeks were pink, dimples standing out as he grinned at something Mike was saying. The top two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, giving Richie a little hint of a collarbone.

Richie was greeted with some ‘about time’s. He grinned sheepishly, explaining that he had to close the shop, even though that was only partly true. Mostly he was giving himself a pep talk about coming at all. He stood next to Bev who was perched on the end of the kitchen counter, legs crossed at her ankles. He could see Eddie perfectly from where he stood, as if he wasn’t always looking for Eddie in the crowd.

Richie wasn’t sure that he could take the  _ longing _ after Eddie. The fact that he was pretending that sleeping together hadn’t changed everything. Eddie caught his gaze and gave him a smile. Richie smiled back. The stares from across the room made his chest heart up and twist more than before.

Richie wasn’t … obsessed with Eddie. He knew that the amount he was thinking about him was  _ a lot _ . He couldn’t help the way that his heart and brain worked. Finally fucking the guy that he had a crush on for so long was overwhelming in the moment. Afterwards, it was underwhelming. Only because he expected to have this big revelation between them about feelings, when really, it took him having the balls to actually bring feelings into the scenario for that to happen.

It was nice to be with someone who gave a shit in some way though, even if it was just in a friend way. But at the same time, it would have completely broken Richie’s heart if Eddie pulled some ‘we’re just friends’ bullshit. So he didn’t say anything in case Eddie  _ didn’t _ feel the same way.

He’d been obsessing over Eddie so much more over the last week. He just kept playing out scenarios in his head where he did say how he felt, and then all of the possible outcomes. He kept imagining some that were much worse than others, of course, and the bad ones were the most prominent. Making things up in his head was about the best he was doing with Eddie since that glorious night (and morning). He was trying to play it cool.

Because that was what Richie did though, right? He pretended that things were cool. He made jokes and pretended that things were fine. This should be another one of those easy times, but the truth was that it was really getting to him.

For the moment though, he was easily pulled into the glow of the room, chiming in with jokes, making his friends laugh and getting drunk. They started playing Never Have I Ever. After the first few rounds, Eddie was outraged when Richie put a finger down at doing coke in the bathroom at Oasis.

“You’ve done a lot more than coke in there, Eddie.” Bill pointed out.

Embarrassed, Eddie said, “Shut the fuck up.”

“Who hasn’t fucked around in that bathroom?” Mike asked.

“Ooh  _ la la _ . Hanlon’s a sexual deviant too.” Richie said.

“Which is why I’m disgusted at the idea of snorting something off of any surface in there. I mean, come on!” Eddie said.

“I can sincerely say I haven’t done anything but piss in that bathroom.” Stan added.

“Boring!” Patty teased from her spot on Stan’s lap. She poked him in the chest. Stan rolled his eyes. His arms squeezed around her middle and he grinned afterwards though. 

“Never have I ever been kicked out of a party.” Bev said when it was her turn.

No one put their finger down.

“Uh,  _ Richie _ .” Bev nudged him.

“What? I’ve never been kicked out of a party.” Richie held his hands out.

“Yes you have.” Mike said.

“When?” Richie asked.

“Party at my place.” Bill said. “You got into an argument with Kay.”

Richie scrunched his face up. “I don’t remember this at all.” He really didn’t. Although, that didn’t mean that it didn’t happen. Also probably explained why Kay didn’t care for him.

“You were fucking sloshed is why.” Bill helped him recall.

“Because you also yelled ‘I’ve had Bill’s dick in my mouth, I deserve to be here more than you.’” Stan snickered a little.

Bill sighed.

“Sounds like me.” Richie was a little embarrassed, but hey, what could you do. “So I still got kicked out?”

“Yeah, I had to make you leave  _ and _ drive you home, dick.” Mike said.

“Is Dick short for Richard? Or about the behavior?” Eddie asked.

Richie snorted.

“Both.” Mike grinned.

“Wait, hold on,  _ you’ve _ hooked up with Bill?” Ben asked toward Richie.

“Yeah, dude. We hooked up, then he asked me for a job and dated my roommate, then fucked my best friend so that was cute behavior.” Richie said.

Bill groaned. “Do we have to go down this road?”

“’m curious.” Patty said with elbows on the table.

“Never have I ever hooked up with Bill.” Ben said.

Bev, Stan, Richie, and Eddie put down a finger. Richie flipped Ben off, put down his final finger, and finished off his beer. Mike had also put down a finger and was trying not to draw attention to it, but Stan was grinning at him.

“Am I the only one who hasn’t? Because that’s not really fair. I’m just saying.” Ben said.

“I’m jealous that I’ve missed all the hooking up.” Patty shook her head solemnly.

Bill looked incredibly embarrassed.

“Oh you wanna hook up with Bill too?” Stan asked. He was grinning at Patty though. 

She was looking back at him and laughing. “No! I’m pissed that I missed my chance with Bev!”

“It’s not too late.” Bev said, waggling her eyebrows. “Watch out, Stan. I’ll steal your girl.” 

“I fucking know you will. Stay away!” Stan laughed.

“Maybe we should have played Spin the Bottle instead of Never Have I Ever.” Richie put his empty beer bottle on the middle of the table. “Or Seven Minutes In Heaven.”

“No fucking way. If anyone else here swaps spit, we’re going to develop our own form of mono.” Stan said, pushing the bottle away.

“That’s impossible.” Eddie said.

Patty moved out of Stan’s lap to grab a beer, but she didn’t return. She wrapped her arms around Bev’s shoulders. “I’m gonna test the theory.” Bev threw her head back, laughing loudly.

Richie scooted out of the way, laughing loudly. He moved over to Stan. “I get to smooch Stan then.” He put himself in Stan’s lap this time and Stan made a disgruntled noise, but put one arm around Richie’s middle. He acted like he was going to kiss Stan too.

“Stop! You’re blocking my view of my girlfriend getting stolen by Bev.” Stan laughed, hand jabbing into his side.

Richie grinned, turning around in his seat to see if there really was a kiss happening behind him. If there had been one, it was just a tiny one. He turned back around and noticed the way that Ben was looking down and picking on the label on his beer as the conversation shifted. “I say Bill makes out with Ben next.” Richie said.

“Oh that’s something for you to jerk off about later, huh?” Stan said.

Ben looked up, extremely embarrassed.

“Fuck off. It’s not my fault I have a group of friends that are hotter than me that I want to see makeout with each other.” Richie said.

“Never have I ever broken into an abandoned house and gotten arrested.” Bill said loudly over top of Richie’s words.

The room got silent as Mike let out a long, heavy sigh and put his final finger down. He finished his beer.

“Michael Hanlon. What the fuck?” Richie asked.

“It was for paranormal investigation.” Mike looked around at the curious faces. When no one said anything else, he sighed again. “Basically, I broke into this old house because it’s rumored to be where the original killer clown of south Florida lived.”

“The  _ what _ ?” Stan asked.

“Wait, you’re telling me some John Wayne Gacy fucker lived here?” Richie asked, leaning back against Stan.

“Basically.” Mike said. “Except he was never caught. The house where they found the bodies, clown suit and pistol was completely emptied out aside from the evidence and a closet full of clown suits.”

“Wait, you’re fucking kidding? Right?” Richie asked.

“Nope.” Mike said. “And then ten years later, there was a repeat of the same crime. People think it’s the same person, but maybe it’s just a copycat killer. They never caught either of them.”

“Oh, I remember when the other murder happened.” Eddie said. “Mom wouldn’t let me leave the house for weeks. I honestly thought that he’d gotten caught since I eventually got to see the light of day.”

“They arrested someone, but he wasn’t the right person. He was just a homeless guy who was sleeping in the house.” Mike said.

“So you’re saying there could technically still be a killer clown hanging out in a swamp or something?” Bev asked.

“That does add a creepy edge to it, doesn’t it.” Bill said thoughtfully. He started jotting down notes in his phone.

“Yes, technically I guess.” Mike said.

“Fuck  _ that _ .” Eddie said.

“Who the fuck still dressed like a clown this day in age anyway? Isn’t that a little niche?” Richie asked, rolling his eyes.

“What’s the difference between a clown and a drag queen?” Eddie asked.

“I think the big difference here is that I’m not a fucking serial killer so …”

“I was talking about taking on a new persona, painting your face and dressing up to entertain part.” Eddie said.

Richie was dying to argue with Eddie about that, but couldn’t actually come up with any valid differences. He had no avail, so he gave up, just glaring at Eddie. “Anyway, can we just let Mike get to whatever point he’s trying to make here about the imminent danger we’re in by living in this town.”

“It’s been thirteen years since the repeat.” Mike said. “I was searching the house because there are all these rumors that it’s haunted. That the victims still linger there and the clown killed himself in there, which there is literally no evidence of other than ghost stories. I didn’t really get any vibes, but there was an old clown suit in one of the closets and it scared the shit out of me.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Eddie asked.

“Wait, so you’re just wondering around abandoned killer’s houses alone?” Bev interjected.

“No, I was with Don.” Mike said.

“How come none of us have ever heard about this before today?” Bev asked.

“Because you don’t come to any of the meetings I have about the town’s history.” Mike said.

“I’ve been.” Richie said.

“You almost fall asleep every time.” Mike pointed out.

“I don’t come because I don’t want to know that scary shit. I’ll admit it.” Stan said, chin resting on one of Richie’s shoulders.

“Me either.” Eddie said.

“I’ve been going.” Bill said. “It’s interesting how much creepy history we’re really sitting on around here.”

“That’s great. You two can go circle jerk with the ghosts of Sunnydale and we’ll just keep sitting it out.” Richie said.

The game of Never Have I Ever dissipated because first of all, Bev and Mike were in a deep conversation trying to figure out how they could collaborate in October for a paranormal meets art exhibit, also everyone was good and drunk, talking about weird occurrences, which eventually led to other conversations, which meant there was no focus left on the game. Private conversation and across the table exclamations were going on. 

Richie climbed out of Stan’s lap and went out the back door to smoke and get a little air, ironically. He lit his cigarette and tilted his head back a little, watching as a blinking plane crossed the starry sky. The storm clouds had completely dissipated.

He looked back down when he heard the door open, expecting to see Bev. Instead, he was greeted by Eddie, who was looking quite cute with his rolled up jeans, ankles showing. 

Richie smiled at him. “Miss me?” He asked.

“You wish.” Eddie’s brows drew together.

Richie grinned. “Then whatcha doing out here?”

“It’s hot in there. Not that it’s much better out here.” Eddie leaned against the brick building.

“That’s fucking Florida for you.” Richie said.

“It’s fucking miserable here sometimes.” Eddie said, then added. “I’ve thought about moving away.” 

Richie’s heart did a low dip into his gut, twisting uneasily. He wanted to say,  _ don’t _ . “Why?”

“Farther away from my mom.” Eddie explained it all without having to in that sentence.

Richie nodded slowly. 

After a moment, Richie said, “Look at Stan’s little plants.”

“Oh.” Eddie was stepping closer to the edge of the porch where his collection of plants were illuminated by the porch light. Richie stepped closer to Eddie.

“I couldn’t keep a plant alive. I can barely keep myself alive.” Richie said.

“Plants are good to have around. They can literally benefit your mood. Succulents are easy to take care of. I’m sure you could keep one of those alive.”

“Bet I’d still kill it.” Richie grinned. “So you have a plant fetish now?”

“I don’t have a plant fetish.” Eddie was disgruntled as he turned to face Richie.

“Sure.”

“Fuck off.” Eddie crossed his arms over his chest.

“God, it’s too easy.” Richie said.

“What?”

“Pissing you off.”

“Maybe you’re just annoying.”

“Then why are you still talking to me?” Richie asked.

“You’re the one who’s always talking!”

“You came outside to talk to me.”

“To get air.” Eddie corrected him.

Somehow, they had gotten incredibly close to each other. Richie found his eyes darting down to Eddie’s mouth. God, he wanted to taste his lips again. Richie watched Eddie’s adam’s apple bob in his throat when he swallowed.

It happened in a quick flash of actions - Eddie unfolding his arms and putting his hand on Richie’s face and kissing him. Richie gasped and he gripped onto the back of Eddie’s shirt with his free hand. Eddie took advantage of his open mouth to kiss him more deeply. He was pressing Richie against the side of the house, and Richie couldn’t do anything aside from surrender to the feeling and  _ melt _ . 

The kiss was sloppy and rushed. Eddie’s hips jerked toward Richie, and when he shifted away, Richie chased the feeling. His hand slid down to Eddie’s lower back, urging him to press forward again. Eddie’s hand snuck inside of his jacket, heat of his palm bearing against his back through the t-shirt underneath.

The creak of the door opening startled them. Eddie jumped back like he’d been caught doing something bad. Richie shoved his free hand in his pocket and took a drag from his cigarette.

“Hey.” Bev said, leaning against the brick of the building to light her cigarette. She looked between them, trying not to grin. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Nope.” Eddie said quickly.

“ _ Okay _ .” Bev blew out a puff of smoke.

..

When the buzz had died down and most people had gone home, Richie was still sitting in Stan’s living room with Bev. He was good and drunk, feeling pretty good despite the fact that Eddie had left without so much as a second glance at him.

“I thought me and Eddie were gonna go to pound town again, but nah.” Richie shook his head. “He doesn’t even really like me that much. Even though I would like, totally lick his feet if he wanted me too.”

“You’re disgusting.” Bev said with a laugh.

Stan wasn’t laughing.

“What the fuck’s your problem?” Richie snapped finally.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to hook up with people because you get emotionally involved.” Stan said.

“I am using the hookups to become unemotionally involved.” Richie insisted.

“That’s not healthy either.”

“You are so fucking annoying, Stan.” Richie said.

“I’m trying to look out for you.”

“Why?”

“Because I fucking care about you?”

“Oh, that’s a first.”

“Fuck off, Richie.” Stan stood up. “That’s your problem. It’s not that no one cares about you or likes you or whatever you think. You won’t  _ let _ anyone care. I’m going to bed. You two can let yourselves out.”

“Stan’s just a fucking dick.” Richie said once he was in the passenger’s seat of Bev’s car.

“He’s just looking out for you. He’s not wrong.”

“What the fuck, Bev?”

“You actually like Eddie. Hooking up was not the best route to go with that.”

..

Stan and Bev’s words were echoing in Richie’s mind for the next couple of days. Hooking up was perfectly fine. If Eddie didn’t feel the same way, Richie could still handle hooking up, he decided. He’d hooked up with plenty of people that didn’t mean anything. Or at least that was what he was going to keep telling himself so that he could keep whatever it was that was going on between them going.

As if to prove Stan and Bev wrong, Richie texted Eddie.

Richie: hey hot stuff 🥵   
Eddie: Hi, Richie.   
Richie: is your monday going okay?   
Eddie: Not really.   
Richie: does your immediate texts back mean you wanna meet for lunch?   
Eddie: I’m actually busy.

Annoyed and let down by the direction of the conversation, Richie didn’t text back. But later that day, Richie received a text.

Eddie: Sorry about being short earlier.   
Richie: you’re always short.   
Eddie: I’m average height.   
Richie: for cute little short babies!   
Eddie: 🖕   
Richie: i know a way to relieve all that stress. 😉   
Eddie: I hate you.   
Richie: hate fucking is a reallllly good stress reliever   
Eddie: And a good way to make you shut the fuck up.   
Richie: I love when you talk dirty eds   
Eddie: Why don’t I come by your place after work tomorrow.   
Richie: i work until 8    
Eddie: that’s fine   
Richie: late night on a work night?   
Eddie: 🙄 yes or no.   
Richie: you’ll be coming alright   
Eddie: see you tomorrow.

..

The idea that Eddie still wanted to hook up with him made Richie entirely too excited. He was trying his best not to look too far into it. But he couldn’t stop thinking about Eddie the entire following day. When he got home, he met Eddie outside his building.

“Excited to see me?” Richie asked.

Eddie just shook his head, trying not to grin.

They went inside together, Richie happy to find that Bev wasn’t at home. Still, their playlist spilled over the bluetooth speaker next to Richie’s bed.

_I've been waiting_   
_I've been waiting for this moment all my life_   
_But it's not quite right_

_And this 'real'_   
_It's impossible if possible_   
_At whose blind word_   
_So clear but so unheard_

Eddie pulled Richie down onto the bed and into his lap. Long limbs wrapped around Eddie.

“What are you thinking today?” Eddie traced his fingers along Richie’s lips. Richie’s tongue darted out to lap at them as an answer. Eddie groaned, pushing two fingers between Richie’s lips. Richie automatically sucked on them, tongue twisting around them. Eddie pushed them further into Richie’s mouth, until he was gagging on them.

“You’re a slut for it.” Eddie murmured.

Richie whimpered around Eddie’s fingers. His hips jerked against Eddie’s a little.

“You like being called names, baby?” Eddie was fucking his fingers into Richie’s mouth. Richie whimpered around them, hips grinding down against Eddie’s. Eddie slowly pulled his fingers back.

“Fuck.” Richie breathed out.

“Tell me if I’m being too much.” Eddie said softly.

Richie’s never been with anyone like this. Someone who made sure he was okay. Someone he trusted enough to admit what he liked. 

“No, no. I like it.” Richie’s cheeks are pink with embarrassment.

“Okay.” Eddie blew out a heavy breath.

Richie got down onto his knees between Eddie’s legs. He pulled Eddie’s cock out of his jeans, tonguing at the head. Eddie groaned, fingers threading through Richie’s hair. Eddie’s cock heavy on his tongue felt incredible. He deep throated him until he could tell that Eddie was about to cum.

Richie ended up riding Eddie. His hand gripped the headboard, making the whole bed rock angrily against the wall with the swivel of Richie’s hips. Eddie’s face is against his chest, lapping at the skin and making the hair damp. His arms were tight around Richie, urging him down harder with each thrust, until finally, he flipped them over and fucked Richie hard into the mattress. Richie reached between them to jerk himself off when he couldn’t take it anymore.

Eddie was standing up, just wearing his briefs when Richie came back from cleaning himself up a little. Eddie was leaning over Richie’s desk, where he had a corkboard with things stuck to it, pictures, concert tickets, notes, stuff like he wasn’t living in the 21st century. Eddie was touching the corner of a picture that Richie had of him and Stan. They were younger, close together with their faces practically touching, Richie’s eyes nearly closed from the grin that was stretched across his face.

“Hi.” Richie said, looking over Eddie’s shoulder.

“Hey.” Eddie turned around, smiling at Richie, but eyebrows knit together. “So … in love with Stan?”

“What?” Richie asked, shaking his head. “No?”

“It just seems like you both know each other better than anyone else I’ve ever been around.”

“Well … we have known each other since we were, fuck, I don’t know? Since we were born.”

“Maybe that explains it.”

“Explains what?” Richie asked.

“The other night when you climbed into his lap and kissed him.” Eddie said.

“I was just fucking with him. I didn’t actually kiss him.” Richie said. But he was recalling the first time that he  _ had _ kissed Stan.

Back in college, Richie hadn’t just  _ told _ Stan that he was gay. He had been romanticizing Stan in the semi-darkness of his dorm on a Friday night. Stan always made him feel at home. With the hum of the fan drowning out the gentle sounds of music and a clink of the bottle on the linoleum floor rang out when laughter filled the room. Across the street the frat houses buzzed with life, house parties with shrieks of laughter and the loud boom of bass rang out in the distance. The heavy heat from the dark night crept inside through the window, in exchange for the puff of smoke from the joint. Richie kissed Stan almost on a whim, like he could play it off as a joke, but Stan hadn’t fallen for it. 

Richie felt incredibly humiliated for thirty whole seconds before Stan kissed him. When Stan was accepting, Richie was overcome with relief. Stan admitted that he had thought for a long time that he liked guys and girls. It had made Richie feel infinitely less alone. Stan admitted that he was afraid because of all the things they dealt with back in their hometown. The vulnerability they were sharing felt a lot like intimacy. They were drunk on cheap wine and lonely. They made out for the rest of the night.

Richie was really excited that it was Stan, who liked him for who he was already. They dated for a while, but it was all happening at a time that their lives were completely going in different directions. Stan was flourishing in college, already applying for grad school and Richie had all but dropped out. Also, Richie was very all or nothing when it came to his feelings and Stan wasn’t so much. It had been overly-complicated, (which had become a pattern ever since … yikes), because Richie couldn’t face any of his feelings head on. He didn’t want to say anything that might fuck up he and Stan’s friendship, so he just let the tension build until it burst out, until Richie’s face felt hot with shame, as he admitted that he felt inadequate in comparison.

Neither of them wanted their friendship to end, but there was no patching up what kind of argument insured from Richie implying that their relationship felt like a competition. They tried to hang out normally, but when it was just the two of them, there was a little bit of strange tension. Things got weird after Richie responded to an invite he received from Stan to go out with, “Yeah, and go watch you flirt with other people all night. No fucking thank you.” Richie and Stan  _ did _ grow apart for a while. 

Everything between them that might have been romantic had been long gone though. That was like ten years ago? And his breakup with Stan was what had led him and Bev to the gay bar that Richie still found himself at home at. But he could admit that sitting in the lap of someone that you once dated probably sent some weird signals to the person that you were currently hooking up with. 

“And we … sort of dated.”

“There it is.”

“What?”

“Why you and Stan act the way that you do.”

“How do we act?”

Eddie shrugged. “Like you’re in love with each other.”

“Stan and Patty are the definition of in love with each other.” Richie said. “Most days, I like Patty better than him.”

“So you’re not still in love with Stan?”

“I’m not in love with Stan.” Richie said. “Do I care about him? Of course.”

“Okay, that’s fair.” Eddie said carefully.

But why did Eddie care? Why was Eddie bringing up who he had feelings for? Was he trying not to complicate things in Richie’s life, or was he curious for some other reason? It all made Richie’s chest tingle.

“Anyway that was a long time ago. College! Which somehow was ten years ago for me.”

“Dude, how old are you?” Eddie teased.

“31, baby.”

“Didn’t realize I had myself a sugar daddy.”

“Oh, baby, I gotta have money for that to be possible.” Richie grinned. “Wait, you’re like twenty-eight or something. That’s not that big of a fucking difference!”

“Once you pass the thirty gate, that’s like one hundred in gay years.” Eddie said.

“Fuck off!”

They laughed.

“You friends with any of your exes?” Richie asked.

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t really have any.”

“What do you mean?” Richie asked.

“I mean that I haven’t really officially dated anyone.” Eddie said.

“Ever?”

Eddie shook his head. “I mean, I’ve fooled around with plenty of people, but it never lasts.”

Richie felt his gut twist uneasily. “I get that.” He searched for something more to add. Something funny or off-putting or maybe a mix. Anything to get rid of the idea that Richie was upset by what Eddie had just said. “There’s plenty of guys I’ve hooked up with in their cars behind the mall that don’t mean shit.”

“Really?” Eddie asked, making a face.

“Yup.”

“In their car?”

“I’m not about to go to any random dude’s house that wants to fuck. What if they’re like fucking Jeffrey Dahmer or something? The clown killer of south Florida?”

“I guess.”

“Don’t tell me you go to rando’s houses.”

Eddie shrugged. “I mean, what are the chances someone’s gonna be a serial killer or something?”

“Like really high according to Mike’s fucking ghost stories. We live in one of the cities with the highest unsolved police cases.”

“No fucking way.” Eddie said.

“Look it up.”

“I believe Mike.” Eddie said. “How do you comfortably have sex in a car?”

“Who said anything about comfort?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I mean, you’re so tall.”

“I can show you sometime if you want.”

Eddie nodded slowly. “Maybe.”

“Have you never had sex in a car?”

“Nope. The whole possibility of being seen made me anxious.”

“Doesn’t make you excited?”

“Not when I had barely stuck my toe out of the closet.”

“Now?”

“Now I don’t really give a shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from 'Tongue Tied' by Grouplove  
> Song from the playlist 'Lazy Eye' by Silversun Pickups


End file.
